


Phantom Apprentice

by MidnightBlue66



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Child Abuse, Dark Ezra Bridger, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Inquisitor Ezra Bridger, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 95,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightBlue66/pseuds/MidnightBlue66
Summary: When the Spectres went to rescue Master Jedi Luminara Unduli, what if Kanan had not regained consciousness in time to save Ezra from the Grand Inquisitor? What if after certain events, Ezra falls to the dark side and becomes the Grand Inquisitor's apprentice?
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Grand Inquisitor, Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus, Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 90
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first Star Wars fanfiction and actually pretty much my first fanfic in general, but I was inspired and thought why not?  
> This story will contain child torture/abuse/manipulation, OCs deaths, character death, and violence. I will provide warnings before each and every chapter.  
> And I will update once a week, maybe twice but we will see how it goes.  
> Thank you :)  
> Enjoy!

Ezra held his tongue when the Spectres announced the rescue op. Although he did share ideas as to how to get inside the prison, Ezra had not spoken his true feelings regarding the mission. Then again, having been living on the streets since the age of seven, Ezra had fortified a mask of cockiness that hid away his honest feelings and thoughts. Such personal thoughts were useless on the streets and wishful thinking had only brought on misery.

This manner of living had led to problems in Ezra’s training, which built onto his reluctance towards the upcoming op. Over the past few months, Kanan and Ezra would spend the little time they had on Jedi training, and thus far, it had only been a bundle of frustration. Kanan kept telling him to “focus” but Ezra did not even know what that meant! How could he focus when he did not know how? And letting go was another abstract concept that Ezra was having a hard time grasping.

After Ezra failed at connecting with a Loth-cat, Kanan jumped at the opportunity when Gall Trayvis announced on the Holonet that Jedi Master Luminara Undulli was alive and kept as a prisoner in the Stygeon system. The thought of Kanan dumping Ezra onto another Jedi Master made Ezra sour and rather self-conscious. He was just starting to settle on the  _ Ghost _ and was rather enjoying his time as part of the  _ Ghost _ family. And despite the frustrations, Ezra really enjoyed his lessons with Kanan, although he had his doubts that Kanan felt the same way.

The entire trip to the Stygeon Prime prison, Ezra was nothing but a bundle of nerves. He wanted so badly to prove that Kanan did not have to dump him onto Luminara, but so far Ezra had been fumbling over every given task, earning only more frustration from his teammates.

“Stunts like that put us all in jeopardy. That is exactly why you need Master Luminara to teach you discipline.”

That was what Kanan had told Ezra after he jumped too soon onto the small platform, but Ezra wanted  _ Kanan _ to teach him discipline,  _ not _ Luminara. But those words seemed to dry up before they could ever leave his throat, and instead Ezra told Kanan he was following the Jedi’s example. That only got him another earful of “stay focused”.  _ So much for trying _ , Ezra bitterly thought.

Fortunately, after the stunt he pulled off on the small platform, they ran into almost no stormtroopers, which was a little odd for a prison who was supposedly impregnable. However, they did not think too much about it – such luck was rare, and sometimes it was best not to look a gift horse in its mouth.

Ezra could not help but to feel awed with how Kanan was handling every buckethead that they came across. He wished that he could learn such maneuvers by Kanan, and not Luminara. Ezra wished that Kanan would see that he was  _ trying _ to be a good student and was willing to learn. Alas, his off comments were met with being chided and sooner than later, they had reached the Jedi Master’s holding cell.

There were two bucketheads appointed outside of the cell and Kanan made them leave after using the Force to manipulate them into leaving.

“When do  _ I _ learn that?” Ezra asked excitedly as he watched the two bucketheads disappear around the corner.

“Luminara will teach you,” was all Kanan said as he opened the cell door. Ezra flinched at the words. The entire night he had been hinting towards Kanan that he wanted to be taught by Kanan, but the Jedi seemed firm on placing Ezra under Luminara’s guidance instead. “Much better than I could,” Kanan then added somberly as he walked down the steps and Ezra dejectedly followed behind.

The cell was rather spacious although bland looking with grey duracrete walls and floors. It was dimly lit by orange-red panel lightings, giving a rather sinister feel – very Empire-like. Ezra’s eyes then landed on the figure that sat hunched over with her face in the palms of her hands on a bench across from the door. This, he assumed, must be Jedi Master Luminara. But there was something off about her; something that Ezra could not place.

Luminara lowered her hands and slowly looked up towards them with haunting eyes. They widened in alarm and the look sent shivers down Ezra’s spine.  _ Something was definitely off _ .

“Is it really her?” Ezra asked.

“Yes,” Kanan said, “but… something is  _ wrong _ .”

Luminara suddenly got up from her seat and walked towards Kanan with a frown upon her face. Her eyes were staring straight at Kanan, and yet it was as if she was looking through him rather at him.

“M-Master?” Kanan asked, concerned.

The Jedi Master then turned and walked towards a coffin at the far end of the room and her body flickered before it sank back into the coffin. Ezra and Kanan flinched in horror, appalled by the ghastly corpse that soon replaced Luminara’s animated face. Her cheeks were hollow, her nose was gone from decay and her mouth hung open, revealing rotting teeth. To Ezra, this all seemed like a bizarre nightmare, one that he could not wrap his head around.

“What happened to her?” Ezra gasped out. “I don’t understand…”

“No?” An unfamiliar voice called out into the cell. “It doesn’t seem complicated. I am the Inquisitor.”

Ezra quickly turned to the newcomer. The Inquisitor was a Pau’an, garbed in black armor and a grey under suit. His grey skin adorned red facial tattoos, making him all the more sinister looking along with his bright yellow eyes. The Inquisitor gave a smirk as he ignited his red lightsaber and walked into the cell with the door sliding shut behind him. “Welcome.”

Kanan hastily ignited his own lightsaber and took a single step in front of Ezra, gliding into a defensive stance.

The Inquisitor stayed on top of the steps and continued to speak. “Yes, I’m afraid Master Luminara died with the Republic, but her bones continue to serve the empire, luring the last Jedi to their ends.”

Ezra’s heart dropped. Although he did not want to become Master Luminara’s apprentice, preferring to be Kanan’s instead, he certainly had not wished for Luminara to be dead. With the new information presented and the pieces falling into place, Ezra hastily brought his commlink up in hopes to warn others of the trap. The only response he was met with was static. _They must have jammed all signals_ , Ezra somberly concluded.

“There will be no reinforcements,” the Inquisitor said with disapproval, clearly unimpressed with Ezra’s pitiful attempt.

Kanan, by the point, had enough and leaped forward with an overhead slashed, which was easily, and almost lazily, blocked by the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor continued to block the onslaught of the Jedi, seemingly enjoying the skirmish as he continued to push Kanan back.

The Inquisitor quickly gained the upper hand and leaned in close with an amused grin. “Interesting,” he said, “It seems you trained with Jedi Master Depa Billaba.”

This certainly had caught Kanan’s attention as his eyes widened with surprise. “How…” Kanan trailed off before narrowing his eyes in suspicion and wariness. “ _ Who are you _ ?”

Ezra’s ears perked at this knowledge. Kanan had not spoken much about his past, mostly for traumatic reasons Ezra assumed, and to learn Kanan’s master’s name had certainly piqued his interest. However, no answer followed Kanan’s inquiry. The Inquisitor, instead, pressed on with more aggressive strikes, changing his grip on the hilt to accommodate both hands instead of one.

Ezra was in awe as he watched the lightsaber duel and hastily stepped out of the way, not wanting to accidentally become part of it. He had not seen his master in combat with another lightsaber user before and could not help but wonder if he would ever have the chance to engage a lightsaber duel with his own laser sword one day. Would he be as good as Kanan? Would he fight the Inquisitor or some other similar enemy?

These questions raced through his mind, but Ezra knew he would have to think of the possibilities later. Right now, he had other more important things that acquired his attention. Turning away – almost reluctantly – Ezra took out the detonator that Sabine had provided him with earlier and felt thankful for the Mandalorian’s love for explosives; they sure came in handy in situations such as these.

“The Temple records are quite complete,” Ezra could hear the Inquisitor say and turned to see the Inquisitor dodging Kanan’s attack before grabbing the Jedi by the arm, stalling Kanan. “In close quarter fighting, Billaba’s emphasis was always on form three, which you favour to a  _ ridiculous _ degree.”

Ezra’s breath hitched as he watched the Inquisitor push Kanan, who was struggling to prevent the red blade from reaching his neck, back towards Luminara’s coffin. Ezra knew he could no longer stand by and do nothing and aimed his energy slingshot towards the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor turned to block the measly attack, clearly disappointed by the effort, but damaging the Pau’an was not Ezra’s aim, distracting him was.

Kanan took the momentary distraction to charge at the Inquisitor only for the Inquisitor to jump up and kick off on the back of Kanan’s head. The Jedi fell forward with a grunt as he landed face down onto the floor and Ezra quickly made his way to his master’s side in aid.

“Clearly you were a poor student,” the Inquisitor mocked as he looked down at the fallen Jedi.

How dare he?! Ezra glared at the Inquisitor, his anger rising at the taunt directed at his master. He had not met many Jedi, but Ezra knew Kanan could not have been a poor student – not as poor of a student that Ezra was. An uncomfortable shadow of self-doubt rose at the thought and Ezra quickly pushed it down as he focused his aim towards the Inquisitor and released two balls of energy from his slingshot.

The stun-balls had no effect and the Inquisitor proved this by allowing them to hit his body, his arms raised in a mocking style. Ezra scowled, feeling rather annoyed at the growing smirk upon the Inquisitor’s face.

“Is that really all you’ve got, my boy?” The Inquisitor egged, but Ezra did not allow the words to get him. Instead, Ezra put up a brave face, giving his own confident smile.

“Well, I’ve got that,” Ezra said as he waved a hand towards the ticking detonator. It was only a few seconds afterwards that the bomb went off and Ezra dragged Kanan hastily out of the cell through the smoke. He hoped that the blast had stunned the Inquisitor long enough to make their escape, but was disappointed when the Inquisitor soon emerged from the smoke, only a few paces behind them.

Apparently, the Inquisitor had been toying with them because he lifted up his circular lightsaber and activated a second red blade. Another time, Ezra would have been amazed at the sight of a double-bladed lightsaber. Now, however, it made him shrink back at the now even more intimidating weapon.

The Inquisitor leaped towards Kanan soon after activating his second blade, forcing Ezra to move backwards to avoid getting in the way. The pace of the fight began to pick up, blades swirling and hissing with every contact. Ezra felt helpless as he watched from the sidelines, but he only had his slingshot, and that had already proved useless against their opponent.

“Are you paying attention, boy?” The Inquisitor asked as he locked blades with Kanan, his eyes staring intensely at Ezra. “The Jedi are dead, but there is another path,” he gave a dramatic pause, “the dark side.”

Ezra hesitated for a brief moment; brows furrowed in thought.  _ The dark side? _ He had never heard of it, and Kanan certainly never mentioned it. But it was not hard to decipher that the Inquisitor probably used the ‘dark side’ of the Force and was most likely attempting to persuade Ezra to join his path.

Straightening his shoulders, Ezra raised his slingshot and aimed towards the Inquisitor. “Never heard of it,” Ezra responded as he released a stun-ball.

The Inquisitor quickly pushed Kanan to the side to block the stun-ball before extending his arm out, and Ezra flew back against the corridor wall, his breath leaving his lungs from the impact. Ezra let out a grunt as he painfully hit the ground, landing head first before toppling over onto his stomach. His head pounded as he slowly pulled himself up onto his elbows.

“Have you taught him nothing?” The Inquisitor chided Kanan mockingly. He was successful in provoking Kanan who let out a frustrated cry and charged forward to attack. The Inquisitor parried smoothly and engaged in close combat for a while before Kanan jumped backwards to put space between the two.

“Do you really think you could save the boy? For his sake, surrender,” The Inquisitor said, staying in his crouched position. Kanan quickly glanced back at Ezra who finally got up and was clutching his aching arm. 

“I’m not making deals with you,” Kanan glared at the Inquisitor, his body tense.

“Hmm,” the Inquisitor smirked darkly and straightened his posture. “Then we’ll let him make one, shall we?”

With that said, the Inquisitor Force pushed Kanan back and Ezra quickly ducked as his master flew over him. Ezra turned in horror as he heard Kanan cry out in pain when he landed hard onto the floor before slumping unconsciously, his lightsaber laying deactivated beside him.

“Your master cannot save you, boy.” The gall that the Inquisitor had made anger rise within Ezra and turned to glare at the Inquisitor. “He is unfocused and undisciplined.”

“Then we’re perfect for each other!” Ezra countered and used his slingshot twice more, which were both easily blocked. The Inquisitor then started making his way towards Ezra and Ezra flinched in fear. There was no way he could block a laser blade and instead, Ezra hastily jumped out of the way, using the angled hallways as leverage to get behind the Inquisitor.

The Inquisitor stopped and turned to face Ezra, lazily swirling his lightsaber with both hands. “I do so admire your persistence,” the Inquisitor said, although Ezra knew it was hardly a compliment. He then grinned, sending a shiver down the boy’s spine, Ezra’s stomach twisting into an uncomfortable knot. “Ready to die?”

The words made Ezra’s heart lurch and took a step back, his eyes slightly widening in panic. He hastily put up a brave front and raised his fists up in a fighting stance. Ezra knew he was practically done for – there was no way he could fight a lightsaber with bare hands and he very much doubted that he could pull off the same dodging stunt from before. He had no choice but to face the Inquisitor and hoped that he would be saved by a miracle – preferably in one piece, too.

Ezra’s heart hammered as the Inquisitor moved towards him, his lightsaber raised and ready to strike. He firmly held his ground, but his resolve was quickly fading as the Inquisitor got closer. Sooner than later, Ezra’s fear won out and he instinctively raised his left arm up to protect his face. Alas, no last-minute miracle came, and Ezra shrieked when an agonising pain washed over him as the Inquisitor’s lightsaber slashed across his chest. Ezra’s body slumped backwards against his will with a thud and his vision quickly faded to black.

**___**

Kanan regained consciousness just in time to see the Inquisitor raising his lightsaber at Ezra. His arm stretched out in hopes to stop the Inquisitor in time, but his body refused to respond. All Kanan could do was watch in horror as the red blade swooped down and cut diagonally across and his padawan slumped backwards, falling in a heap on the ground.

“NO!” Kanan yelled out, desperately. This  _ couldn’t _ be happening; this  _ couldn’t _ be true. Kanan laid frozen on the floor, his brain processing what he had just witnessed. He knew that this was not a dream and that he would not wake up back on the  _ Ghost _ to see Ezra in the common room with the others, laughing and chatting.

“EZRA!” He yelled out desperately, already knowing his attempts were in vain. Ezra had fallen to the hands of the Inquisitor and the severance of the master-and-padawan bond proved that. “Ezra, can you hear me?! Please answer me!”

“You have failed, Jedi,” the Inquisitor spat out. “Your padawan is  _ dead _ .”

As if to prove it or to rub it in Kanan’s face, the Inquisitor stepped aside to show Ezra’s motionless body on the floor. Kanan’s throat tightened and he felt bile rise; the sight was more than Kanan could possibly bear. Scrambling to his feet, blinking his tears away, Kanan glared at the Inquisitor.

_ How dare he?! Ezra was so young, so full of life, and now… now he was gone _ . Kanan could barely complete the thought, the truth already weighing so heavily upon his heart. It felt as if he was reliving the very moment back at the end of the Clone Wars when the clone troopers turned on him and his master, Billaba. The moment when he watched helplessly as Commander Grey shot Billaba down. Again, Kanan found himself hopeless and useless.

_ No _ . Such thinking would not help him right now. What he had to do was retrieve the body of his fallen padawan, his friend, his  _ son _ . Flexing his fists tightly before relaxing them, Kanan called his lightsaber to his open hand before it came to life with a  _ hiss-snap _ . He had to stay focused. His main goal now was to retrieve Ezra’s body and retreat back to the  _ Ghost _ .

“Give up now, or face the same fate,” the Inquisitor gave a wide smirk, as if reveling in Kanan’s agony. “You know you cannot win,  _ Jedi _ . You have already lost, and you know it.”

Kanan glared coldly at the Pau’an, his shoulders straightening and his grip on his lightsaber hilt tightening. “No,” his voice was steady, but Kanan was using every technique he had learned over his years as a padawan to not break down here and now.

The Inquisitor’s smile faltered slightly and readied his lightsaber. The smile soon returned when footsteps echoed through the corridor; footsteps belonging to stormtroopers. Kanan silently cursed and knew time was running up.

He quickly glanced towards Ezra’s motionless body before drifting his eyes towards the Inquisitor who stood waiting. Taking a deep breath, Kanan leaped forward, making his way towards the right side of the Inquisitor before changing direction towards the left wall at the last minute. The maneuver did not work the way Kanan wanted it to. The Inquisitor quickly brought up his second blade, preventing Kanan from passing through.

Kanan quickly pushed back with the heel of his foot to dodge the strike.  _ Curse that second blade _ he angrily thought. If there was not a time limit, then Kanan would have been more open to fight without holding back, but there _ was _ a time limit, and it was running out. Retrieving Ezra’s body was top priority, but the Inquisitor was making it near impossible to do so; his wide stance in the narrow corridor made it difficult for Kanan to break through.

The Inquisitor tsked at the Jedi. “That was not one of the options I gave you.”

“Well, I don’t want your stupid options,” Kanan countered and attempted again to get by, this time aiming low and trying to leap above the Inquisitor. Again, it failed. The Inquisitor anticipated Kanan’s move and with the advantage of his double-bladed lightsaber, he once again pushed Kanan back.

He could feel a bead of sweat tickle down the back of his neck. Guessing by the approaching shadows, he had a mere few seconds to get Ezra and get out. Weighing on his options, Kanan decided on a different approach, this time heading to the Inquisitor head on with intent of engaging in battle.

Locking blue against red, Kanan slowly released one hand from his hilt and shakingly stretched it out; holding the Inquisitor with one hand took a lot more effort than Kanan anticipated. Concentrating as much as he could, Kanan reached out with the Force and got a hold onto Ezra’s body, pulling it towards him. If Kanan could not get to Ezra, then Ezra would have to come to him.

The Inquisitor, realising what Kanan was doing, snarled, and pressed down harder. Kanan strained under his hold, his teeth grinding at the effort, but pressed on. He was so close, too close, to give up now. Alas, luck was not on his side.

The Inquisitor released one hand from his hilt and almost effortlessly grabbed hold of Ezra’s body before giving a final push with his blade, making Kanan stumble back. This made Kanan lose his focus and ultimately, his grip on Ezra. By this point, time had run out and the bucketheads could be seen running down the corridor. Kanan knew that by now he would no longer be able to retrieve Ezra who was now hanging limply from the Inquisitor’s grasp, and Kanan also knew he would not stand a chance against the Inquisitor alongside a horde of bucketheads.

Giving out a string of curses, Kanan tightly shut his eyes before opening them again to have one last look at his padawan, the one who he had come to think of as a son over the past six months. What had he been thinking, wanting to dump the kid onto another Jedi? This would not have happened if they had not attempted to rescue Luminara. It would not have happened if Kanan was a better teacher. His fingers curled tightly into fist and Kanan gave another loud curse before turning and escaping down a corridor away from the Imperials, and away from Ezra.

“Hey, over here!” Sabine was at the end of the hallway waving her hand at Kanan. Kanan’s heart sank at the realisation that he was going to be the one that had to break the news to everyone. He quickly caught up to Zeb and Sabine and they ran down the hall, evading the now closing doors.

“Wait,” Zeb looked behind his shoulder, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Where’s the kid?”

Kanan’s throat tightened. The words were heavy on his tongue and nearly did not want to leave his mouth, but he took a shaky breath before responding. “Ezra,” the name came out hoarse and Kanan knew that he did not have to finish the sentence for the others to know what happened, but he had to say it. “He’s gone…”

“What?” Sabine nearly stumbled over her own feet at the news. “H-How?!”

“The Inquisitor,” was all Kanan could choke out as he kept his focus ahead. Sabine and Zeb did not know who this ‘Inquisitor’ guy was, but they swore they would make them suffer for what they did to Ezra, the boy they had all come to know as family. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I decided to post the chapter slightly earlier. Hope you're all doing well in this odd time.  
> No warnings for this chapter, other than that it's sad and it implies character death.

The  _ Ghost _ sat in the silent plains of Lothal, the tall grass gently brushing against the metal hull in the cool breeze. About twenty metres to the west stood five shadowed figures all huddled around a small clearing. Two hundred metres ahead of them stood the tower that was once Ezra Bridger’s home. 

The weather matched the mood of the off worlders; grey clouds scattered across the sky, offering little warmth from the hidden sun. It had yet started to rain, but it would be of no surprise when it did. The Spectres, however, did not care much for the weather at the moment, too busy in their own grieving to take notice or enjoyment of such things. 

Kanan held Hera in his arms on his right side and tightened his grip when a sob escaped his lover. Next to Hera quietly sat Chopper who had one of his manipulators held out towards Hera, holding a piece of her clothing in comfort. To Kanan’s left side stood Sabine and Zeb, both silently keeping their gaze down at the mount of dirt before them. 

The loss of Ezra had taken a toll on the entire crew, and especially Kanan. When the  _ Ghost _ escaped the Stygeon system, Kanan went straight to his room and had not left for nearly the entire travel time back to Lothal. Hera had ended up threatening to break down the door if Kanan did not open up and eat something. It took a while, but Kanan reluctantly gave in and opened the door, leaving his room to appease Hera. None of them ate as much anymore - only eating because they knew it was a necessity - and all meals were eaten in a heavy silence. 

By the time that they had reached Lothal, each Spectre looked worse for wear: large bags from restless nights under bleary red eyes from spent tears, oily hair from the lack of self-care, and just the aura of a walking corpse, too sad to display any other emotion. And although Chopper had no differences in physical appearance, he too, was affected. The astromech was a lot more quiet, keeping snarky comments to himself and had stayed most of the trip in his corner in the common room or in the cockpit. 

Now they stood before an empty grave in the grassy plains, and knowing that the grave contained no body made Kanan’s blood boil. He was angry at how things had turned out, but more importantly, he was angry at himself. Kanan was responsible for Ezra’s safety as well as training and he had somehow failed Ezra in both categories. 

He should have never even thought about pushing Ezra onto Luminara. Instead, he should have been more patient, try different teaching techniques that would best fit Ezra and him, and overall be a better teacher. That way, perhaps Ezra would have been better prepared. Kanan mentally hit himself at such thoughts. It should be  _ Kanan _ that should had been better prepared - stronger, faster, better. Perhaps then he could have prevented the Inquisitor from…

He couldn't finish the thought as fresh tears welled up in the corner of Kanan’s eyes. He wished he could wipe the tears away, to appear strong in front of his family, but no longer had the energy to do so and allowed the tears to flow down his face. Even Zeb had watery eyes by this point as Sabine gingerly placed Ezra’s cadet helmet onto a metre tall stick that acted as a grave marker. 

The helmet was added to Ezra’s collection when he infiltrated an Imperial academy and had been Ezra’s favourite ever since. Of course, after the op, Sabine did the honours of painting it with her usual bright colours. It seemed only suitable to use it as a grave marker and to honour Ezra’s life.

The fond memories left a bittersweet taste as Kanan remembered that there would be no more of such memories in the making. No more Ezra bickering with Zeb and Chopper, chasing one or the other down the  _ Ghost's _ narrow corridors  loudly. No more Ezra complaining about how boring meditation was or his snarky remarks regarding Kanan’s teachings. The realisation that his padawan was gone forever had left a gaping hole in his heart; one, just like his master’s, would never heal.

Brushing his hand up and down Hera’s arm in comfort, Kanan let go of his lover and stepped forward to Ezra’s burial. Bending down on one knee, he gingerly placed some local flowers they had bought a few hours prior to the ceremony on top of the dirt. The flowers were a soft blue and a rare beauty amongst the grasses, grown only in specific conditions, but they did little justice to the loss of Ezra. Nothing would ever be enough to make up the loss of the boy.

Kanan remained for a few more seconds crouched beside the mound of dirt. He felt a deep sense of guilt and incompetence at the fact that he could not even have retrieved Ezra’s body. Knowing the Empire, they would have probably disposed of Ezra’s corpse along with the garbage, not even putting the time to giving a proper burial. The mere thought made Kanan cripple with despair. How could he have allowed it to happen? To fail in more than one way, especially when it was completely preventable?

Finally, he got back to his feet when he felt the comforting touch of Hera on his shoulder. The one difference between the death of his master, Billaba, and Ezra was the fact that Kanan was not alone this time, and for that, he felt somewhat grateful for. 

Taking a deep breath, Kanan stood at attention, his arms stiff by his sides and his back straight.

“I have a few words I would like to share,” he began, almost quietly and cleared his throat before raising his voice. If Kanan was going to give a speech about Ezra, he would do so with a clear, confident voice. Knowing Ezra, he would not want them mopping out sappy words above his grave. “Ezra Bridger may not have spent as much time aboard the  _ Ghost _ as some of us, but he sure was a fine Spectre, and more importantly, a fine friend. Over time since the Purge, I had lost my confidence in my ability as a Jedi, losing hope and gave into fear of being exposed.”

Kanan paused as memories flooded his mind. The time spent after Billaba’s death was not a pleasant one; living on the streets, hiding in the shadows and stealing what food he could find was not the life he would have wished upon anyone. Then came the short time with Janus Kasmir, learning to become a smuggler all the while on the run from Grey and Styles.

He shook his head. Kanan needed to be present, he should not focus on a past from so many years ago. This was about Ezra, not him.

“Then I –  _ we  _ – met Ezra. The mistrustful yet cocky boy who managed to cause such a ruckus on his short time aboard the  _ Ghost _ – not only stealing my holocron, but also my lightsaber.” Kanan paused again to let out a chuckle from the memory. “From there, he had been part of our odd family and quickly made me realise that I no longer needed to hide who I am: a Jedi, a symbol of hope to those who oppose the Empire. The kid was brave and despite having our differences, Ezra made a fine padawan and it was not only a privilege to have been able to teach him, but also to learn from him. For that, I will always be grateful for.”

Kanan suddenly went quiet. He had so much more to say, but the confidence he had built up had dwindled and the words were stuck in his throat. During his speech, he had nearly referred to Ezra as his son in the odd mix of their space family. He felt somewhat aware that the other Spectres knew how Kanan felt, especially Hera who was the mother figure on the  _ Ghost _ and equally saw Ezra as a son. Still, the words only formed a lump in his throat, refusing to surface. 

Zeb awkwardly cleared his throat and ran a hand over his head as a nervous habit.

“If I had known that we would be doing sappy speeches, I would have prepared one,” Zeb said. “But… I am not good with speeches to begin with… However, for the kid, I will make an exception.”

Zeb was not one for openly displaying his emotions or offering affection other than sarcastic remarks, but the kid had grown on him. “Ezra was always a strange kid and would never shut up about how my ‘odour’ stank up our room, but he was alright. And…” he trailed off for a moment and again ran his hand over his head. “And I will miss him.”

Chopper gave a low whistle in agreement, his tone indicating that he, too, would miss Ezra.

“Yeah, he was a good kid,” Sabine somberly agreed and then with a sad chuckle, added, “Remember that time where Chopper stole the bolts of Ezra’s bed?”

The memory made the Spectres chuckle. The moment would forever be commemorated on the wall of Zeb and Ezra’s bedroom wall by the honours of Sabine. Ezra had sure been a lively addition to the  _ Ghost _ , one that each member highly appreciated.

The atmosphere became heavy again at the remembrance that Ezra would no longer make more of those ruckuses.

“Come,” Hera said and her grip still on Kanan’s shoulder tightened briefly before she let go. “I’m sure Ezra would not want us to shed any more tears for today and instead, let's honour his memory with funny stories and good times. The kid was strong like that.”

They nodded their head in agreement, but all felt reluctant to leave the grave. Walking away would be another step in their acceptance that Ezra Bridger was gone and that there was nothing that could change that. And somehow this was as  difficult as making the decision to leave Ezra’s body behind.

Kanan’s stomach twisted with guilt at the reminder.

Kanan sighed. Hera was right, they should honour Ezra’s life with the good memories – at least for the remainder of today. It would be at least one step into recovering, although Kanan was sure the road of recovery would be a long and difficult one.

Studying Ezra’s burial once more, burning every detail into his memory, Kanan reluctantly turned and walked back towards the  _ Ghost _ with the rest of the Spectres in tow. With every heavy step, Kanan felt more and more as if he was once again abandoning Ezra. He wished so badly that he could go back to collect Ezra, or better yet, go back in time and save Ezra. But such hopeful thinking would get him nowhere, and Kanan knew this all too well.

Back onboard the  _ Ghost _ , they all sat in silence, only sharing a memory of Ezra here and there before going back to idly stirring their now cold soups. Although Hera had said that they should make most of the day as a celebration for Ezra’s life, they quickly found that they had no energy to do so – at least not yet anyways. The wounds of his loss were still too fresh.

Deciding he was not going to finish his dinner, Kanan abruptly stood up. “I am going to head to bed now,” he grabbed his unfinished bowl and put it in the sink before making a beeline to his chambers.

Once in his darkened bedroom, Kanan plopped down onto his bed with a sigh. Burying his face into his hands, he allowed his emotions to surface and felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. Reluctantly, Kanan pulled his face away from his hands as he reached over to his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of Tevraki Whiskey, which was given to them by a client long ago, and a small shot glass. 

He had never been one for drinking, and definitely not out of grief, but today he would make an exception. Kanan poured a healthy amount of alcohol into the glass before setting the bottle down on the table. He did not drink it immediately and instead stared at the liquid in contemplation.

Kanan briefly wondered what his master would make of him now, sitting alone in his darkened chambers with a shot of alcohol out of grief. His master had told him that it was okay to feel emotions as it was part of being alive, but to also be mindful of them. And right now, he was not being mindful, and for the moment, he did not care.  _ Just for today _ .

Making up his mind, Kanan brought the shot glass to his lip and the alcohol burned its way down his throat. He cringed at the taste and burning sensation but relaxed soon afterwards as the warmth spread through his body.

There was a brief knock on the door before it slid open to reveal Hera.

“May I come in?”

Kanan nodded and made space on his bed for Hera to sit next to him. She took up the offer and the door closed behind her. For a minute they sat there in a comfortable silence before Hera decided to speak.

“How are you holding up?” Her voice was quiet and Kanan knew that Hera was doing everything in her power to not cry.

“Could be better,” he admitted and reached out to the bottle again and offered a glass to Hera. She shook her head, declining the offer.

“You know, I  _ am _ here if you need to talk, Love.”

Kanan set the empty shot glass down and leaned forward onto his knees. “I know,” he sighed out. He turned to gaze at her knowingly, “But the same offer goes out to you.”

At the words, Hera’s strong mask dissolved and Kanan quickly enveloped her into his arms. She held tightly onto his shirt as if scared that Kanan, too, would disappear.

“I just still can’t believe that he is gone. Even after the burial, it still seems so…  _ unreal _ …” Hera let out a sniffle and buried her face deeper into Kanan’s chest. “Ezra... he did not deserve such a fate. He was so young, and brave, and funny, and…” the words dried up on her tongue, but she managed to choke them out after a few seconds “… He was our  _ son _ . And now he’s gone.”

Hera was the glue in their odd space family; mothering everyone and ensuring that everyone’s needs were met. And now, to see her in this state, broke Kanan’s heart. He knew Ezra’s death was hard on everyone, but he should not have allowed his grief to neglect his lover’s grief, especially when Hera did all she could for the other members by putting up a brave face and a shoulder to lean on. Now, it was her turn to lean on someone else’s shoulder.

“I know,” was all Kanan could whisper out as he gave comforting motions up and down her back as she sobbed into his clothing. “I know…”

The road to recovery would be a long and difficult one for everyone. But together, they would get there eventually. Even if it would take years. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra gets interrogated by the Inquisitor
> 
> Trigger warning: Child torturing, emotional manipulation

A sharp pain pulled Ezra from unconsciousness and he hissed as he opened his groggy eyes. The bright light above him caused his eyes and head to ache and Ezra moved his arm up to block the light only to discover that he could not move his arm. Snapping his throbbing eyes open in panic and ignoring the painful glare of the overhead lights, Ezra looked down to see his body strapped into a metal device. 

Struggling in an attempt to loosen the bindings had only caused his chest to burn and Ezra stilled, his mind racing as he tried to recollect what had happened. Slowly, but surely, the memories returned and Ezra’s heart started to race. The last thing he remembered was the Inquisitor running towards him with the red blade raised and the next moment there had only been darkness.

Looking down at the straps again, Ezra knew that he was not on the  _ Ghost _ . And i f the blandness of the grey room was any indication, he must either still be in Stygeon Prime or some other Imperial facility. Either way, this was _not_ a good situation to wake up in. And as much as he hated to admit it, Ezra could not deny that he was feeling afraid.  _ Very _ afraid.

Closing his eyes again, Ezra took a few deep shuddering breaths, ignoring the pain, in an attempt to calm himself. He felt somewhat grateful at the moment for all the meditations that Kanan had made him do over the past few months. The thought of Kanan, however, did nothing to calm his panic as he recalled his master losing consciousness. 

Ezra took a quick look around the room and from what he could see in his peripheral view, Kanan was not present; Ezra was alone. This could either mean that Kanan died - although that seemed impossible - or that Kanan was held in another room or cell. Ezra, of course, hoped for the latter. Then came the question of what happened to the rest of the Spectres. Zeb and Sabine were responsible to hold their escape route and Ezra could not warn them about the trap. The best outcome that he could hope for was that they escaped, and if that were the case, they should be coming to rescue him and Kanan soon.

The thought of rescue calmed Ezra’s nerves a bit, but did little to ease the pain. The slash that the Inquisitor gave him across his torso stung with every breath Ezra took. Fortunately, the gash was only skin deep and his sternum remained in contact. The downside was, Ezra’s clothing was signed onto the gash and that would prove difficult cleaning -  _ if _ the Empire would even allow Ezra to clean his wound. 

_ The Empire _ Ezra bitterly thought. He  _ hated _ the Empire and he hated being here in this room, waiting for someone or something to come. Ezra’s anxiety would not let him wait patiently and knowing he was in the enemy's hands did little to help. However, apparently, Ezra did not have to wait much longer as the room’s door slid open with a  _ hiss _ . 

Ezra’s head snapped towards the entrance, silently wincing as his head painfully throbbed, and his heart sank at the sight of the newcomer. 

“Ah, looks like you finally decided to wake up,” the Inquisitor gave a pleased smile as he made his way into the room, the door sliding shut behind him. Ezra glared at the approaching Inquisitor, the last being he had wanted to see. 

“Where’s Kanan? Where are my other friends? Where am I?” The questions that had been burning inside Ezra slipped past his lips before he could even stop them. 

The Inquisitor chuckled darkly. “For the one being interrogated, you do ask a lot of questions.” Ezra stilled at the response. He had known that he was most likely here for questioning or perhaps just for torture, but hearing it made it all the more real. “Fear not, my boy, your questions will be answered in due time.”

The Inquisitor continued to slowly walk, circling the chair that encased Ezra before stopping after completing a full circle. For a moment, the Inquisitor only stared at the boy in silence, studying him and Ezra tried not to squirm under the intense gaze. “Now,” the Inquisitor said, pausing to ensure that he had the boy’s full attention. “We can either do this the easy way… or the hard way.”

His gloved hand motioned towards the tools of torture that Ezra had eyed earlier. Ezra shrunk at the sight of the tools, not wanting to find out what they were capable of, but also did not want to answer any questions. 

“Now tell me, my boy,” the Inquisitor leaned forward menacingly, looming over Ezra like a tall shadow. “Where are the rebels?”

Rebels? Ezra’s mask fell more a moment as he gave a puzzled look.  _ Did he mean the _ Ghost _? _ He thought to himself, but it would not make sense with the way the Inquisitor was phrasing his question. Ezra began to wonder if there were other groups in the galaxy rebelling against the Empire. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ezra spat out. He decided to risk it and be difficult to work with, keeping his answers vague. The Inquisitor pulled back, a frown dawning on his face. There was a moment of silence before the Inquisitor made his move, gently waving his hand in the air and Ezra watched in horror as electrodes came into view. 

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” The Inquisitor’s usual sly smirk reappeared at sensing Ezra’s fear. “ _Where are the rebels_?”

Ezra hesitated a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if attempting to form words. He could not deny that he was afraid of the pain that was to come, but knew he had to hold on. The  _ Ghost _ would be back for him sooner or later and he had to stay strong until then. 

“I don’t know,” he replied again after taking a short breath. Ezra barely had time to brace himself as electrical shocks traveled through his body causing it to jolt against the straps. The convulsion against the restraints only caused his torso to burn more, earning a cry from Ezra. 

Ezra panted as he attempted to catch his breath, feeling a small wave of relief when the shocks stopped. 

“ _ Where are the rebels? _ ” The Inquisitor gave a warning look as if daring Ezra to answer wrongly. Truth be told, even if Ezra  _ did _ want to tell him where the rebels were, Ezra did not have the actual answers. The closest thing to an answer that he could think of was that the  _ Ghost _ would most likely return back to Lothal. But Ezra did not want to tell the Inquisitor that, and did not plan on doing so.

Putting on a brave face, Ezra glared at his tormentor. “I don’t know.”

The shocks came again, although this time Ezra had expected them and was slightly more prepared than the first time. However, that did not make them any less painful as he bit his tongue, not wanting to give the Inquisitor any satisfaction of hearing him wail in pain. 

This went on for a few more rounds, each time the voltage intensifying, but yielding the same end results. By the fourth time, Ezra was left with a throbbing body and head, his fingers slightly twitching from over-stimulation, and felt nauseous as he watched the room spin before him. Despite saying that he would remain strong and hold on, Ezra had not expected to feel so worn out so quickly. 

The Inquisitor remained silent as he regarded Ezra with a frown; his amusement long gone after realising he was not getting anywhere. He waved his hand and the electrodes moved away from Ezra. “Perhaps you do not _know_ of any other rebels to speak of,” the Inquisitor said a moment later. 

Ezra’s first intuition had been correct after all. The Inquisitor had been asking about other rebels.

Ezra’s expression must have given something away as the Pau’an gave a dark chuckle. “It seems I was right. You only know the  _ Ghost _ , one rebel cell amongst a much larger group.”

The boy regarded the Inquisitor with a weary gaze. He did not like where the Inquisitor was heading with this, but whatever game he was playing, Ezra was not about to let him win. And so, Ezra chose for silence.

“It seems like they did not trust you with such information,” the Inquisitor goaded on. “But that would make sense. After all, you’re nothing more than a Loth-rat they picked up on one of their stops.”

Ezra clenched his teeth. The comment did strike a chord, and something stirred uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach; how the Inquisitor came across this information, Ezra did not know. However, he did know that he was  _ not _ some Loth-rat; Ezra had come to loathe the word after having been called that so many times over the years he lived on the streets. 

Seeing that he struck a chord, the Inquisitor continued to goad. “Not even your pathetic ‘master’ trusted you. After all the time you had been his apprentice, you have  _ nothing _ to show for; no training, no skill. But that should have been expected after seeing what Kanan Jarrus was capable of.”

“You’re wrong!” Ezra exploded. “Kanan was  _ not _ a bad teacher - he’s a great Jedi!” He paused to catch his breath, his throat still raw from being abused just moments ago, and then quickly added, “And he and the rest of my friends _do_ trust me!”

“Then why have they left you in the dark?” The Inquisitor countered, satisfied to finally get a rise out of the boy. “Why had they, your own so-called master and friends,  _ abandoned _ you?”

Abandoned.

The words echoed through Ezra’s mind and he frowned in confusion. His friends - family - would not abandon him, especially not in the hands of the Empire, much less a foul creature such as the Inquisitor.

“You’re lying,” Ezra said in a steady voice. He was sure of it. “You’re just trying to get under my skin to get information out of me. I’m ‘sorry’ to tell you, but it won’t work.”

The Inquisitor slightly leaned back onto his heels, looking taller and gave a knowing smile. “Lying?” He said as he chuckled. “I assure you, my boy, I am not lying.”

Turning to a tray that sat next to the interrogation chair, the Inquisitor picked up a holoprojector. Ezra swallowed, but the lump in his throat would not go away as he eyed the holoprojector wearily. 

Suddenly he was afraid. What if the Inquisitor was right?  _ No _ , Ezra decided. The Inquisitor had to be bluffing. Kanan would not abandon him, his  _ family _ would not abandon him, not after all they had been through together. 

The holoprojecter flickered to life and Ezra blinked several times to make sense of what was seeing. It was a security footage of the lower levels at Stygeon Prime, and more specifically, it was a security footage containing Ezra and Kanan’s confrontation with the Inquisitor. 

Ezra’s throat tightened and something stirred uncomfortably within him, making him twitch in the interrogation chair. He did not want to be watching this footage. He did not want to find out if the Inquisitor’s taunts held some truth to them. And yet, Ezra found himself unable to turn away from the holoprojector, as if in some awful trance. 

Before him, Ezra could see Kanan being pushed back by the Inquisitor with the Force and he could not help but wince at the impact. His heart pounded as he watched himself get confronted by the Inquisitor, reliving the fear from that moment. Ezra could no longer watch, feeling bile rise, and turned his head to the side. The effort was in all but in vain as the Inquisitor roughly grabbed Ezra’s head, forcing him to watch the projection before him.

The gash on Ezra’s torso ached as he watched the Inquisitor strike him down, this time from a third person’s point of view. It felt odd and highly uncomfortable to watch himself crumble to the ground. Ezra’s focus was then pulled away from himself and towards Kanan who was already getting up to his feet. His breath hitched, unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

No way. This could not have been real. 

Ezra stared with wide eyes as he watched Kanan immediately break into a run down a hall, leaving Ezra behind with the Inquisitor. His master had not even spared a single glance at Ezra before sprinting off.  _ Abandoned _ . Kanan  _ abandoned _ him.

The security footage changed to another footage of Kanan, Zeb, and Sabine running off towards the  _ Ghost _ , jumping onto the hovering landing ramp and then flying off into the distance. They had all left Ezra behind. 

Ezra shook his head reluctantly, although the movements were limited by the Inquisitor’s grip. No. There had to be an explanation Ezra thought. There must be more information present, something that he was missing. But Ezra could not come up with anything as he watched the footage on loop.

The second time watching it had not been any easier than the first and he wished that the Inquisitor would stop it. He didn’t.

“See, my boy?” Ezra heard the Inquisitor say near his ear in a hushed voice. “Your  _ master _ had abandoned you, left you for dead to save himself. He had never intended to train you,” he explained, “why else would they not have trusted you? Why else would they leave you behind to save their own skins?”

“No,” Ezra weakly mumbled out. Even after watching the clip a second time and now for the third time, Ezra did not want to believe it. “There must be more information… they couldn’t - _wouldn’t_ \- just leave…” 

“Oh, but they have left you.”

“B-but Kanan was going to train me to become a Jedi.” Ezra said it more to himself rather than to the Inquisitor, still in daze from the whole ordeal. 

“What was going to happen after you ‘rescued’ Luminara Unduli?” 

Ezra froze at the question. The answer was one that he was not fond of and now that things were forced into a different perspective, Ezra really did not want to mull over it. He could see where the Inquisitor was getting at, and he had no desire to voice it aloud.

However, the Inquisitor already knew that and instead voiced it for Ezra. “Jarrus would have made Luminara train you.” He paused as he let go of Ezra’s head and placed the hand to rest upon the boy’s right shoulder, and Ezra tensed at the touch. “It had always been his plan to abandon you, whether there was or was no Luminara.”

Ezra gritted his teeth and avoided looking at the Inquisitor. He still firmly believed that the Inquisitor was attempting to manipulate him somehow despite the evidence pointing towards the Pau’an’s statements. It was easier that way than to face the truth.  At least now all Ezra’s questions were answered regarding where the others were. Now, the only question of whether they would come back to get him remained, and this one, even Ezra, was not certain of the answer. 

He felt the Inquisitor release his grip on his shoulder and walked in front of Ezra. The yellow eyes burnt with an intensity that made Ezra shudder in disgust and he wanted to do nothing more than withdraw from the Inquisitor’s presence. 

“The other path is still open for you,” he said, regarding the conversation they had earlier in the corridor. “Take it and you will become stronger than you could have ever imagined. Use it to exert your revenge against the traitors.”

“And work for the Empire?” Ezra scoffed. Who did the Inquisitor think he was? Ezra was given proof that Kanan and the others ran off, leaving Ezra behind without any hesitation, but that did not mean they would not come back. This type of situation had played out before when he had first met the crew and in the end, the  _ Ghost _ had come back. “ _ Never _ .”

The Inquisitor’s corner of his lips tugged downwards upon hearing Ezra’s response, but only for a brief moment before he composed himself, giving a wider smirk. Ezra felt bile rise at the sight of the Inquisitor’s smile.

“We shall see.”

That was the only warning Ezra got before the electricity coursed through his body. He groaned as he bit back his screams and clenched his fists. The Inquisitor only chuckled at the boy’s resilience and turned the voltage intensity higher. Ezra could no longer hold back and his screams echoed down the metal hallways. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra gets relocated.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter, although there are references to previous torture.

Yellow eyes stared at the holotable as the Inquisitor pondered for a moment, his hand resting a few centimeters above the call button. He was very certain after his interrogation that Ezra Bridger knew nothing of other rebel cells other than the _Ghost_. This became very clear when the Inquisitor got no results after hours of electrical shocks and even resorting to using an IT-O droid. He was about to mind probe when the boy unfortunately passed out from the pain, but that mattered little as he already got what he wanted from the interrogation. And besides, he was certain he would get his chance later on.

Of course, that was not why the Inquisitor was standing before the holotable. Informing his master of Ezra Bridger’s lack of knowledge regarding the rebels would be an unpleasant task, but hopefully what the Inquisitor had in mind would more than make-up for it. He just needed to word it right.

Clicking the button on the table, the holotable flickered to life and the Inquisitor immediately sank down onto his knees as a large, blue hologram of Lord Vader’s upper body appeared before him. 

“You bring news, Inquisitor,” The deep mechanical voice boomed with an authority that the Inquisitor detested. If Vader was capable of vocally or facially expressing his emotions, the Inquisitor was certain that Vader would be sneering. 

“Yes, Lord Vader,” The Inquisitor remained kneeling, his voice giving nothing away of his resentment towards his master. “It was as you expected, my lord. The boy knew nothing of other rebels... However, I believe Ezra Bridger has the potential to become a great asset to the Emperor.” 

“You believe the stubborn boy will be more useful as an inquisitor than as bait to capture the escaped rebels? The boy was already given the option of joining the Empire.”

If there was one thing that Vader was known for, it would be for the lack of patience. The Inquisitor felt fortunate enough that his master did not immediately address his lack of information about rebels from the boy, even if this had been expected to be the case. Vader desired immediate results, and if otherwise, the problem would usually be met with the end of his blade. And knowing this, the Inquisitor knew that he had to word his next few sentences very carefully.

“If I may, Lord Vader.”

There was a few seconds pause before Vader finally gave permission. “Proceed.”

“I believe with time, I can break the boy down, break his resolve. The boy is strong with the Force. It would be more beneficial in the long run to train him to become an inquisitor, and over time, the rebels will surely reappear and then we will crush them once and for all.”

“Training the boy would take up a lot of energy and time. Something that the Empire cannot afford to waste.” Vader said and the Inquisitor kept his face neutral despite feeling slight frustration of getting nowhere. “Especially if the boy ended up like your previous failure, the Second Sister.” 

Even after all the years that had passed, Vader would still bring up the Second Sister when possible. This time, the Inquisitor could not conceal his reaction as he clenched his hands and his brows deepened in dismay. He quickly composed himself and allowed his fists to relax.

“And from that, I have learnt my lesson. Ezra is nothing like the Second Sister,” The Inquisitor countered. “And if I may be so bold, Lord Vader, Ezra is stronger than the Second Sister in the Force, and much younger... so susceptible to breaking and molding into something more desirable."

The boy thought he had been abandoned by his friends with an easily edited holovideo; left behind with the one thing he had hated for all his life: the Empire. It was an easy enough trick to do; injecting Ezra with a Force suppressant that the Inquisitor carried on his person at all times just a split second after slashing him across the chest. This had fooled the Jedi, Kanan Jarrus, into believing that his Padawan had died and thus, leaving not only himself, but also Ezra vulnerable. The Jedi would be left emotionally incapacitated while the Padawan would be left susceptible to manipulation. It was a win-win situation for the Inquisitor - _if_ Vader would allow it, of course.

“Very well, Inquisitor,” Vader finally said after a pregnant pause. “You will have it your way. Take the boy to Fortress Inquisitorius to begin the procedure.”

“Yes, Lord Vader. It will be done.”

“However, if you prove yourself insufficient in turning the boy to the dark side and becoming an agent of the Empire within a month, it will not only be the boy who will be dealt with.”

The warning made the Inquisitor briefly tense up as he remembered when Vader addressed insubordination at the beginning of Inquisitorius. It was efficient enough for inquisitors to keep in line for many years afterwards and for those who still defied or failed Vader were either severely punished or disposed of. And the Inquisitor did not want to face either option. 

“It will be done, Lord Vader. I will _not_ fail you, that I assure you.”

“We shall see.”

With that the hologram flickered before disappearing, leaving the Inquisitor in a dim room. He rose to his full height and the Inquisitor could not help but to allow his lip to curl into his signature smirk. He felt relieved that his master had granted him permission to convert Ezra rather than disposing of the boy due to his unwillingness of joining their side. However, he could not shake up the suspicion that Lord Vader had set him up to fail, giving him only one month to complete his task. But it was a welcomed challenge, one that he would not fail.

With the thought of breaking Ezra Bridger, the Inquisitor started to make his way down to the brig that kept the boy. It was time to pay his apprentice a visit. 

____

Pain.

That was all Ezra felt when he came to. He was laying on his back and his muscles screamed with every slight movement, and his chest burned even more. Ezra took a moment to orientate himself as he shifted his gaze from one point of the room to the other. It was clear to him that he was no longer in the interrogation room, although as to how or when he got here was unclear. 

Ezra lifted his throbbing head, his neck muscles straining, and could see that there was a ration bar and a cup water a metre away from him. Groaning, he allowed his head to fall back. Ezra was certain he was hungry after enduring such a long day previously but the thought of food only brought on a wave of nausea and he could not bring himself to even move. What would be the point anyways? Ezra was sure that he would be soon executed anyways. He did not know any useful information that the Empire would want and there was no way he would join the Empire. 

There was a sudden spark of hope in the back of Ezra’s mind. He had escaped the cell on a Star Destroyer before, perhaps he could do it again. But back then, Ezra had not been injured and the Imperials had greatly underestimated his skills. This time, he would not be so lucky. Then again, perhaps his friends would be on their way to rescue him. Ezra clung onto such hopeful thoughts as if they were water in an endless desert. The thoughts were the only thing keeping him afloat in this thus far hopeless situation.

Another situation came to light. If he was not to be executed, then how much more of this torture would he have to endure before his friends arrived? The thought made him shudder. 

“Kanan.... Please come back soon…” Ezra’s voice was hoarse and his lips cracked under each syllable. 

He did not want to be left with the Inquisitor any longer. One day had been enough and the thought of having to endure another made his eyes burn with tears. Ezra was used to being roughened up during his time on the streets, but never to such an extent of physical and verbal abuse that the Inquisitor had put him through. The scariest part was that the Inquisitor sounded so confident with every word that fell out of his mouth, that Ezra had started to doubt his own convictions.

However, today was a new day and a new resolve. Ezra had to just hold on until Kanan and the others came back for him. Until then, there was little he could do other than not give into the lies that came from the Inquisitor’s mouth in hopes to crush any remaining hope in Ezra.

With that in mind, Ezra sluggishly turned over with a groan of pain and painstakingly made his way to the cup of water. His throat burned with dryness from all the screaming from the previous day. Slowly, but surely, Ezra made it and grabbed the cup with a sigh of relief as the water smoothed over his throat. 

As soon as he was done, the cell door hissed open and Ezra immediately tensed when he saw a tall shadow enter the room. He did not need the Force to know who it was and Ezra could only guess how pathetic he must have looked, sprawled out on the floor desperately clinging onto a cup of water. Fortunately, the Inquisitor made no remark of Ezra’s state as he came to a standstill in front of the boy. 

Ezra craned his neck to glare at the Inquisitor. The mere sight of the alien made bile rise in Ezra’s throat.

“Enjoying your cell, I see,” the Inquisitor said, amused. The Inquisitor then roughly grabbed Ezra by his arm and pulled him to his feet. Ezra tried to bite back his discomfort, but failed miserably as his entire arm ached in its socket, causing him to whine. The Inquisitor then pulled Ezra towards two guards standing at attention and the bucketheads stepped forward to place binds on Ezra’s wrists. They must have been Force suppressant because Ezra suddenly felt empty, as if a part of him vanished.

His heart pounded in his chest as the guards pushed him out of the cell and they started to make their way down the corridor with the Inquisitor in the lead. Ezra assumed they were on their way back to the interrogation room, the one place he did not want to go to, and he attempted to slow down the inevitable journey. Ezra quickly found out that his attempts of struggle were futile as the guards did not budge or slowed down as they continued to drag him off down the endless halls. Ezra heaved as he felt anxiety rise with every step they took as the acknowledgement that escape was impossible became clear. He did not know how many turns or levels they had gone through, too focused on his rising panic rather than his surroundings.

Ezra was slightly taken aback when they entered a hangar full of Imperials standing at attention, working amongst TIEs and shuttles. For a split second, there was a naive hope that perhaps he would be released and that he could go home. Or perhaps the _Ghost_ would make an appearance now that Ezra was easily accessible. It was an ideal timing for rescue, and the thought made Ezra look longingly out into the snowy distance with hope.

None of these options took place. Instead, the guards dragged Ezra towards a shuttle, one unlike anything he had ever seen before. The shuttle was sleek in design and the hull was triangular in shape - almost like Nubian royal starship, only much smaller and not as fancy looking, crossed over with an A-wing starfighter. And from what Ezra could tell, the shuttle had double forward-facing laser cannons and a single rear laser canon. The polished grey sheened under the overhead lamps and Ezra could not help but to secretly admire that spacecraft as they approached. 

He was taken out of his thoughts when they made their way up the landing ramp and could not help but allow a new wave of anxiety washed over him. Ezra had a feeling that once he stepped foot aboard this ship, he would go somewhere dark and cold - somewhere he could not return from. He would forever be changed, and he was not sure if it would be for the better.

“Where are we going?” Ezra asked in a small voice and he silently cursed at the terror evident in his voice. Wherever they were going, Ezra sure hoped his family could find him.

The Inquisitor stayed silent and looked at Ezra with a knowing, amused gaze. It made Ezra’s heart sink and he had to suppress a shudder of unease. One of the guards then roughly shoved Ezra, forcing him to take the final step onto the shuttle. A cold darkness settled over Ezra like an uncomfortable itchy blanket, only one that he could not remove. He tried to ease his nerves by taking in the interior of the ship. The pale grey interior of the shuttle was small, but still reasonably comfortable to house eight people. On the two parallel walls were four bucket seats situated against the walls and from the cabin was the cockpit where two pilots already sat, ready and waiting.

Ezra was forced to sit on one of the seats on the right side and the two guards sat on either side of him, each grabbing their E-11 blasters and holding them ready in case Ezra tried to do something. The Inquisitor remained instead standing and moved to face the cockpit, watching as the pilots pressed buttons to initiate take-off.

Ezra could only watch with dread as the shuttle entered the white and blue of hyperspace and as time dragged by, he felt more and more the need to do something rather than just to sit and let the Empire do whatever they were going to do to him. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the loosely held E-11 blaster on the buckethead to his left and Ezra started to formulate a plan.

If he could maybe just somehow get that blaster from that buckethead, then he could blast him and just maybe be fast enough to take out the second guard. The more Ezra thought of it, the more he realised how terribly the plan would fail. The chance he would be able to get the blaster and shoot both guards down in time was highly unlikely. And even _if_ Ezra had somehow managed to do that, what then? There was no way he could take down the Inquisitor with a measly blaster. 

The chance of escape was very slim, but perhaps Ezra could at least sabotage the ship; take everyone down with him. This was something that Ezra could at least do. A last act of rebellion and to rid the galaxy of the vile Jedi hunter. Besides, it would be better than tortured to death - he doubted by this point that he was going to be executed.

“Don’t even think about it, boy.” The Inquisitor’s warning voice broke Ezra’s chain of thoughts and he jumped in his seat out of surprise and unease. 

Ezra’s nervous gaze shifted away from the blaster and locked onto the Inquisitor's intense yellow eyes. He held back the urge to squirm in his seat and instead glared at the alien who ignored Ezra and turned back to look out the viewport. 

The rest of the traveltime was done so in unbearable silence and Ezra’s interest perked when they finally exited hyperspace and back into real space. From what he could see from his seat, they were approaching a dark blue looking moon. When they reached the atmosphere, Ezra could then tell that the moon's blueness came from it being covered almost completely in water.

The shuttle then made its way down the water, almost grazing it as it approached a large black pyramidal-like structure that rested on the surface. The ominous building was shrouded in a thin layer of mist and behind it were two large planets. The closer and larger planet was blue-purple whereas the smaller and further away planet was a burning red. Everything about the place gave a haunting feeling, regarding the atmosphere as well as the Force surrounding the moon, sending shivers down Ezra’s spine. This was a place strong in the dark side of the Force.

Ezra could barely contain his surprise when the shuttle started to submerge in the waters below. It appeared that the shuttle was more than meets the eye and was multipurpuseful. From the viewport, Ezra could see the ocean’s landscape below them. The bottom was covered in jagged black rocks that opened up to expose the lava lurking beneath the surface. In the red glow of the molten rock, small fish-like creatures that Ezra had never seen before swam idly by, ignoring the Imperials' intrusion as if it were the norm. 

The shuttle then made its way through an underwater airlock before resurfacing in a small hangar. There it docked onto a single platform and the boarding ramp between the cockpit and cabin lowered. The two guards beside Ezra roughly pulled him to his feet and pushed him down the boarding ramp and onto the platform where four more bucketheads, two on either side of the platform, were standing at attention with their E-11 blasters ready. 

The Inquisitor ignored them as he walked them by and towards the large doors that were quickly opened to let the Inquisitor through. Ezra and the two guards followed behind him closely and if it was another time, Ezra would have been fascinated by the architect.

The hallways had large, slanted windows on either side that allowed the cool glow of the oceanic to dance on the durasteel that made up the infrastructure. The red hues from the lava below could be seen against the blues sending a shiver down Ezra’s spine at the thought that something so dangerous was lurking just beneath the calmness of swimming fish. 

The display ended as they walked deeper into the fortress and into what appeared to be the detention block. The detention block was a circular room that contained a few floors of ray-shielded cells. Ezra quickly scoured the area in hopes to find another prisoner, but could not see anyone else in the little time he had and he felt even more alone as the guards forced him away from the detention block and down a narrow, dark corridor. 

With each step down the corridor, Ezra’s felt alarm bells ring louder and louder. If the Inquisitor did not throw him into a cell back at the detention block, then that could only mean two things. One, they had a different cell for Ezra or two, the Inquisitor was going to ‘interrogate’ Ezra. The second option sent Ezra’s mind in a turmoil.

The corridor opened into a wide cavern and from on top of the platform, Ezra could see lava flowing, giving the chamber a sinister glow of orange and red. Upon their arrival, the bucketheads stationed at the controls extended a bridge for them to cross. Ezra attempted dragging his feet, but failed to slow down the pace as they drew closer to the large durasteel doors. His heart pounded as he watched the door hiss open to reveal a smaller cavern that also had a sea of lava below the platform.

“ _No_ ,” Ezra said, breathlessly, as his wide eyes fell on the object at the far end of the platform. 

There, before him, was an interrogation chair. And although Ezra had thought that this would be one of the possibilities, seeing it was different than thinking of it and attempting to be prepared for the fact that he would be tortured. 

“Please, _no_ ,” Ezra pleaded, but it fell deaf on the Imperials’ ears. 

The Inquisitor watched with a smirk as the guards dragged Ezra towards the chair. Ezra did not make it easy for the bucketheads as he thrashed around in hopes to break their tight grip. It was all futile as they wrapped and tightened the metal straps. Satisfied at the handiwork, the Inquisitor motioned for the guards to leave the room and so they did.

“Please don’t,” Ezra attempted again as he continued to struggle, the metal biting into his skin. He was sure it would leave terrible bruises, but better bruises from attempting to escape than facing torture by the Inquisitor.

“Begging will get you nowhere, my boy,” the Inquisitor said as he slowly approached Ezra like a Loth-cat circling its prey. “Lord Vader appointed me to this task, and I will _not_ fail, you see.”

Ezra did not know who this Lord Vader person was and nor did he care. And whatever this task was, Ezra was not going to make it easy.

“As if I cared if you failed,” Ezra said, glaring at the Inquisitor. Instead of irking the Inquisitor as he had hoped, the Pau’an looked amused. 

“You should consider yourself lucky that it is I that will be your master and not Lord Vader.”

The remark only deepened Ezra’s anger and hatred towards the Inquisitor. “I’ll _never_ be your apprentice,” he spat out. 

The Inquisitor chuckled at Ezra’s retaliation. “Good, allow the anger and hate to take root inside of you. Use it as a wellspring to fuel your power.”

“Go kriff yourself, you Nerfherder.” Ezra had learnt a lot of colourful words while living on the streets, but none of them could express Ezra’s hatred towards the Inquisitor. “I’ll never fall to the dark side or work for the Empire. May as well kill me now and be done with it.”

Of course Ezra did not want to die, but he also did not want the Inquisitor to win. He would just have to fight and hold on until the _Ghost_ came back for him, which hopefully was sooner than later.

The Inquisitor only chuckled again as if reading Ezra's thoughts and then knowing something that Ezra did not. 

“We will see,” he smiled, exposing his sharp yellowed teeth. “For now, I bid you welcome to Fortress Inquisitorius, where Jedi die and Inquisitors are born.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra gets tortured part 1/2
> 
> Trigger warning! Child torture and manipulation!!

A week.

That was how long Ezra had been at Fortress Inquisitorius. Or so he thought at least. There was no way of keeping track of time after all. His cell, which turned out not to be in the detention block he had seen when he had first arrived but rather in an even more isolated part deep within the fortress, had no windows. Ezra had not seen a glimpse of sunlight since he had come here, not the eerie waters as he was dragged through the corridors to the interrogation chamber.  The only hint of time that Ezra had was the number of meals he was given every day. As far as he knew, he was given two meals a day - one in the morning and one at night although he was never awake or there when these meals were given.

It had been one week where Ezra endured being tormented by the Inquisitor daily, leaving his body aching every night and day with pain. And it had been one week where the  _ Ghost _ had yet made an appearance. Every day, Ezra was constantly forced to endure the hollow emptiness of the lack of Force as the bucketheads injected him with Force suppressants. It was something he could never get used to, and was always left feeling more alone without the ability to feel the Force around him. 

Ezra panted as the shocks stopped flowing through his body. They only began not too long ago, but he could already feel his body giving in, still not recovered from the previous session the day before. His vision blurred as he glared at the Inquisitor who only chuckled at the state that Ezra was in.

“You look as if you had enough of electricity,” the Inquisitor remarked and Ezra felt fresh anger roll over him. 

“Wow, gee, great observation,” Ezra rasped out, barely able to form the words properly. “Maybe you should be given a medal.”

“Playing smart are we, my boy? No matter, we will try something new.” The Inquisitor then stretched his right hand out towards Ezra’s face.

At first nothing happened and Ezra felt unsure as to what to think or to expect. It could be one of the Inquisitor’s tricks to give Ezra a false feel of security, but then it came. Ezra let out a soft groan as a hot flash of pain burned through his senses. It almost felt as if the Inquisitor was clawing his way through Ezra’s mind and Ezra had no way of stopping him. Before this, Ezra did not even  _ know _ you could use the Force to probe minds. 

“Ngh! S-stop!” Ezra pleaded, his mouth falling open in a silent scream. He tried to move away, but the restraints of the chair kept him in place. 

As quickly as the pain came, it stopped and the Inquisitor’s hand drew away from Ezra. Ezra panted. His head felt as if it was split into two and his vision blurred again.

“Still holding onto your ‘ _friends_ ’, I see,” the Inquisitor mocked and regarded the boy with a disapproving look. Ezra could barely make out the words with his ringing ears, but he managed to lift his head to glare at the Inquisitor. “They will not save you, my boy. They abandoned you and you know it.”

“No,” Ezra gasped out. Every day the Inquisitor would tell him this, and every day Ezra refused to let the words sink in.

“Your inability to see and accept the truth evades me,” the Inquisitor remarked. “Perhaps you need a reminder that you were not wanted by your precious friends. You were nothing more than a temporary tool to them, an expendable  _ Loth-rat _ .” 

“ _ No _ ,” Ezra growled out. He had to remain strong, he could not allow the Inquisitor to waver his confidence in the  _ Ghost _ \- in Kanan. But it was hard when the security footage was being played out again and again before his eyes. 

Tears pricked his tired eyes as he watched once again Kanan running away, leaving Ezra behind with the Inquisitor. Ezra had spent a week desperately begging for Kanan to come back, waking up from nightmares screaming his master’s name only to find himself alone in his cold cell. 

“It was your dear master that left you to this fate - this pain,” the Inquisitor said as the footage looped on the part of Kanan abandoning Ezra. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. The sooner you accept your fate, the better it will be for you and the sooner the pain will stop.”

Ezra gritted his teeth. He was having a harder and harder time denying that his master and the  _ Ghost _ had indeed abandoned him, but that did not mean he would give in. He couldn’t. The Empire was evil, and its tyranny had caused him his parents and home. 

“More like better for you,” Ezra gritted out. He did not sound as confident as he wished. “You’re just afraid that you will fail your precious master.” 

The Inquisitor clenched his fists for just a brief moment, but long enough for Ezra to see and he gave a small smile that he was able to irk the alien. This small victory did not last long.

“Say what you want, but I will break you,  _ boy _ ,” the Inquisitor gave a sinister smile and Ezra had to suppress a shudder. The metal restraints clicked open much to Ezra's surprise and he was roughly pulled out of the interrogation chair. The Inquisitor threw the boy onto the platform, and Ezra let out a groan of pain as his weakened body met hard steel. 

“You  _ will _ yield,” the Inquisitor said and he quickly towered over the scared boy. Ezra’s heart raced and his throat tightened as he looked up to meet the menacing yellow eyes. All confidence that Ezra had perfected in his years of being a con artist disappeared, leaving his emotions bare to see. And the Inquisitor relished this - that was quite evident in the gleam of his eyes and the twitch of his lips.

Ezra was pulled up by his matted blue-black hair and hissed in pain. The Inquisitor leaned in and Ezra struggled to pull away in disgust. “Do you really believe that your so-called-friends can save you?” The Inquisitor asked in a low voice. Ezra only glared in response and the Inquisitor did not take well to the answer. 

A hot stinging sensation spread across Ezra’s left cheek as the Inquisitor backhanded him. He bit his tongue to hold in a cry as his eyes started to burn with tears. Quickly blinking his tears away, Ezra did not want to give his tormentor the satisfaction of getting what he wanted. But it was getting harder, especially after a week of non stop suffering.

“Do you still believe your friends will come back and save you?” He asked again. And again, Ezra remained silent.

Ezra cried out in surprise when he was thrown across the room and rolled painfully against the durasteel floor. He had expected to be backhanded again and not be treated like a ragdoll. He weakly pushed himself off from the ground and his wide eyes snapped towards the Inquisitor when the sound of a  _ hiss-snap _ reached his ears. 

There stood the Inquisitor with both blades activated and Ezra could feel his throat tighten in fear as flashbacks from their encounter in the hallway resurfaced. Just like then, the Inquisitor came at the defenseless Ezra with his blade held high. And just like then, no one stopped the Inquisitor from bringing down his blade. Only this time, the Inquisitor did not aim for Ezra’s torso.

Instead, the red blades swooped down and across Ezra’s left cheek. The boy barely had time to react as the second blade hit just below where the first blade scratched the flesh. Both wounds were superficial and would most likely leave a scar, but it made Ezra’s heart leap out of his chest in fright. 

Ezra jumped back in fright and landed on his butt as he attempted to put distance between him and the Inquisitor. Instinctively, he brought his hand to his now burning cheek and choked back a sob from the stinging pain. The Inquisitor raised his lightsaber again and Ezra flinched in fear.

“Do you still believe your friends will come back and save you?”

Ezra wildly shook his head, ignoring the burning sensation. “No,” he sobbed out. He wished this would stop. 

“No  _ what _ ?”

“They will not come back and save me,” Ezra choked out, barely able to spit out the bitter words. For the entire week, he held onto that one hope that kept him afloat in all this misery. Admitting aloud that the possibility of the  _ Ghost _ showing up to rescue Ezra did not exist had shattered that dwindling hope. Now, Ezra was left feeling empty and numb.

The Inquisitor gave a pleased smile and deactivated his lightsaber, placing it onto his back where he usually kept his weapon. He then pressed a button on his wrist comm and a few seconds later, the door opened and the two guards came in. If they were the same bucketheads as the ones a week ago or the day before, Ezra did not know. He did not put up a fight as they clipped binders onto his wrists and dragged him out back to his lonely, dark cell. 

Ezra remained on the spot where the guards threw him, looking at the dimly red lit ceiling with unseeing eyes. He ignored the daily ration bar and cup of water that was just slightly out of reach, even though his body desperately called for it. Ezra felt beyond exhausted at this point; drained physically and emotionally. He hated the Inquisitor’s lies, and he hated it even more that the Inquisitor was right. 

There was a part of him that still tried desperately to hold onto the now dimmed spark of hope of Kanan coming to rescue him. It had been a week and not even a single sighting in any nearby system. The reality of things was a difficult pill to swallow, especially when one was forced to. Something had cracked within the boy when he was forced to admit aloud that his friends weren’t coming. The spark of hope was nearly completely gone, and now replaced with something more… sinister.

Thinking back, Ezra longed for his life before the  _ Ghost _ . It had been so simple, even if he did have to struggle to survive. He was at least good at being a con artist and back then, he was not tortured by an Inquisitor. Heck, he did not even know about the Force. It had been an ignorant bliss, one that Ezra would welcome again. 

But alas that time was no more. Ezra’s emotions and thoughts were once guarded by the personality he had built while living on the street, one of aloofness and arrogance. That, of course, was shattered once he had boarded the  _ Ghost _ . And once something had been shattered, it could not easily be put together. 

The thought of that made an odd emotion rise within Ezra and he quickly distinguished it as resentment. He resented the  _ Ghost _ crew for shattering the wall he had built for so long to protect himself. He resented to have ever met them. If it weren’t for that meeting, he wouldn’t be here. Ezra curled his fingers into fists at the thought, his eyes narrowing into slits as he glared at the ceiling. 

What did Ezra do to deserve this torture? What had he done in order to be abandoned by the man he had come to think of… the thought trailed off and Ezra felt bile rise. Over the past six months, he realised that he had come to think of Kanan as a father figure. It had been so long since he had looked up to someone. Of course there had been Ferpil Wallaway who taught him the mastery of pickpocket, but he was no longer alive, dying just before Ezra met the  _ Ghost _ , but he was pale in comparison to Kanan Jarrus.

_ You are nothing to them. _

_ They abandoned you, left you for dead.  _

The voice echoed in Ezra’s mind and Ezra rolled over to his side and curled into a ball. His chest ached from the motion, but he ignored the stinging pain. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Never had Ezra felt this helpless before, not since his parents were first taken up and he had spent his first night alone on the cold streets of Capital City. 

Ezra stayed in that position for a few minutes, tears freely flowing down his cheeks where his left cheek stung under the salt, before the need for water and food won out. Groaning in pain, Ezra crawled towards the cup of water and greedily drank it down, pausing momentarily to let his nausea settle. The ration bar was something Ezra took his time with; his stomach was always upset after each torture and Ezra rather not end up puking out his dinner.

After finally completing his measly dinner, Ezra ignored his protesting body and walked to the bench he had been sleeping on for the past week. Slumping against the cold metal, Ezra tightly screwed his eyes before relaxing them in hopes to fall asleep. Sleep was something that never came easy anymore. Too many nightmares would wake him up screaming for Kanan or some other member. Of course now, Ezra knew that none of them would come for him - not anymore.

Eventually, after a long while, Ezra managed to fall into a restless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be honest, not the happiest with how this chapter turned out, but I rewrote it three times and edited it. So this will be as good as it gets or risk pulling my hair out.  
> The good news is... I've decided on an update schedule (for now at least- school begins on the 14th and I have retake exams in October):   
> Every Monday, Thursday, and Saturday I will update. If things changes, I will of course mention it in advance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra breaks (torture 2/2)
> 
> Child torture, manipulation, suicidal thoughts/wishing for death

Another week had come and gone. The days blurred together with nothing but pain to remind Ezra that he was still alive. By this point, any remaining hope that he had desperately held onto of being saved had vanished. Kanan  _ had _ abandoned him. This was a fact that Ezra could no longer deny and he hated Kanan for it. And he hated the rest of the Spectres for following suit. 

Anger and hate boiled under his skin just at the mere thought of the Jedi and  _ Ghost _ crew. And by this point, he was not sure if he hated the Inquisitor more or less. The Pau’an showed little mercy. Just when Ezra’s body started to adjust to the pain, the Inquisitor would change tactics and introduce a different and more intense type of pain, never allowing Ezra to rest. And Ezra did not know how much more of this he could handle and he knew that the Inquisitor also knew this. He was reaching a breaking point, he could feel it. 

“Please,” Ezra whimpered out, sprawled pathetically on the floor. His muscles ached so much that he could barely move. “Kill me… let me die.”

The Inquisitor clucked his tongue as he looked down at the boy. Bending his knees, the Inquisitor roughly grabbed Ezra’s chin, forcing him to look into the burning yellow orbs. “Surely you must have realised by now that you will not be granted death. The  _ only _ option is for you to become my apprentice,” he paused for a few seconds to let the information sink in before continuing. “And if you become my apprentice, I will make you more powerful than you can possibly imagine. With that power, you can exact your revenge, or justice as you like to call it, on the  _ Ghost _ for abandoning and using you, and more specifically, Kanan Jarrus.”

_ Revenge. _

The word was odd, however not unpleasant on Ezra’s tongue. For the last two weeks, any fondness Ezra had ever held towards the  _ Ghost _ crew eroded away to bitterness and hatred. The Inquisitor would constantly reminded how little he had meant to Kanan:  _ expendable, useless, a nobody _ . Would keep telling Ezra that the  _ Ghost _ was the reason for Ezra’s suffering. 

However, Ezra also remembered what the Empire did to his parents and home, leaving him to live alone on the streets for eight years. He hated the Empire for it and wanted them to pay for what they did to his life and family. This was enough for now to deny such temptations on an easier revenge on the  _ Ghost _ _;_ what could one boy do against an Empire versus a crew of rebels?

Ezra weakly chuckled, his throat burning from overusing his vocal chords. “How about… _no_.”

“Your perseverance is starting to get on my nerves, _boy_.” His tone no longer held the hint of amusement it usually did. “Perhaps, I haven’t been as harsh as I should have been.”

Dread filled Ezra and bit back a cry when the Inquisitor kicked him in the ribs and Ezra knew it would form a nasty bruise later on as he continued to roll to the edge of the platform. He tilted his head slightly backwards to look down at the glowing magma below. It looked so warm and nice - so inviting. All Ezra had to do was roll once or twice and he would fall down below to his death.

Death.

That was what he wanted, was it not?

It then dawned on Ezra that he could not do it. No matter how much he wished for this pain to end, Ezra could not end it for himself and he clenched his teeth in irritation. Never had he felt so weak and pathetic. If he could not grant his own death, then his only choices were to either wait for the Inquisitor to fail at his task and kill him, or to give in and become the Inquisitor’s apprentice. 

Both options seemed unappealing to Ezra. With the first one, he had no clue as to how much more time the Inquisitor had and the thought of going another week of torture was just as bad as torture itself. However, with the second option, although it would mean he would become stronger and get back at Kanan and the  _ Ghost _ , Ezra would have to work with the Empire. And that was unappealing for obvious reasons. 

Ezra was then brought out of his thoughts when he felt his throat tightened. Instinctively he brought his hand up to try and relieve the pressure only to find that there was no hand to pry off. His body was then raised off from the platform and pulled towards the Inquisitor’s extended hand.

“I’ll ask this once more,” the Inquisitor said as he wrapped his fingers around Ezra’s throat. “Give yourself to the Empire. Become my apprentice.”

Ezra only glared as he wheezed for air, digging his nails into the unbudging arm in hopes to be released. The Inquisitor snarled as he roughly released Ezra, throwing the boy away as if disgusted. The boy fell to the ground and greedily took in air, his body now trembling from the exertion. His relief did not last long when he heard a  _ hiss-snap _ . 

Looking up, his eyes widened at the sight of the red blade. “N-no,” Ezra begged. “Please.”

“Prisoners _don’t_ beg,” the Inquisitor spatted out as he then kicked Ezra, forcing him onto his stomach. Ezra tried to get up but quickly found that he could not move. His heart dropped at the realisation that the Inquisitor was holding him in place with the Force.

Breathing rapidly, Ezra tried to stay calm as he heard the humming of the blade draw near his head. Perhaps this was it. The Inquisitor was done with him, angry and annoyed enough to kill him. Ezra screwed his eyes tightly shut in fright as he waited. He did not want die and his stomach dropped at the realisation. 

Instead of being beheaded like Ezra thought would happen, the sizzling blade slowly carved itself into Ezra’s back. Howling in pain, Ezra attempted to move away but was continued to be held in place. He could not see what the Inquisitor was doing, but he could feel the movement of the blade. It did not feel as if the blade was penetrating the skin deeply, only enough to leave a permanent scar much like the ones on his cheek. 

After what felt like forever, Ezra could finally make out what the Inquisitor was doing with the blade as he traced the burning movements and nearly gagged. It wasn’t some random lines being drawn into his back. No, it was the emblem of the Galactic Empire. A miserable sob left his lips as Ezra dug his broken nails into the duracrete.  _ No _ , he thought,  _ this can’t be happening _ . But it was and there was nothing Ezra could do about it. 

“You are nothing. The reason why your so-called master and friends abandoned you at the first chance they got was because you are weak and useless. They knew you would suffer at the hands of the Empire - in  _ my _ hands - and wanted that. They _wanted_ you to suffer.” The Inquisitor taunted as he continued to carve into Ezra’s back. “You now belong to the Empire whether you accept to be an inquisitor or not. Do not forget it.”

Ezra continued to sob even after the Inquisitor was done. He could feel himself be released from the Force hold, but did nothing to move. His stiff back hurt too much to even think about moving and he did nothing as he heard the familiar boots of bucketheads moving towards him. They dragged him back to his cell and Ezra allowed it without much of a fight, not that he had the energy to do so anyways.

In the cell, Ezra laid quietly on his stomach and did not bother to eat or drink. All he could feel was the burning sensation in his back, a constant reminder that there was now a symbol of the Empire burnt into his flesh. A symbol that he would never escape this prison, this torment. Tears prickled his eyes at the thought that he would carry this on him for the remainder of his life, never to be free.

Ezra’s blue eyes lit up with a burning hatred as he glared at the empty space in front of him. He hated the Inquisitor for doing this to him, but more importantly, he hated Kanan for leaving him here. If it weren’t for Kanan, Ezra would not be experiencing such suffering, he would not have the symbol of the Empire carved onto his body.

_ So much for being peacekeepers _ , Ezra bitterly thought. When he had first met the Spectres, he was taken aback by their generosity to those in need. Now he was enraged by their hypocrisy, especially from the Jedi - a religion based on peacekeeping. They had cast him aside as if he was nothing. 

Perhaps Kanan thought he was too weak to become a Jedi. He  _ had _ wanted to dump Ezra off to Luminara, and he did not spend much time training Ezra in the ways of the Force. Perhaps Kanan did not think Ezra had what it took to become Jedi, despite telling the boy that Ezra was strong in the Force.  _ Just another lie _ , that had to be it. A convenient lie to keep Ezra around long enough to see that he was not worth training and then thrown aside. 

Ezra  _ wanted _ revenge. He wanted to prove to Kanan that he was not weak, that he could learn the ways of the Force. The Inquisitor’s offer came to mind, but was followed by the memories of his parents surfaced.  _ Mom… Dad… _

What would they think if he turned to the dark side? To work for the Empire? No, he couldn’t do that to their memory. They died speaking out against the Empire in hopes to get the life they knew and loved before the Empire came. Of course, Ezra never knew what it was like before the Empire, but he knew it was important for his parents; it had even cost them their lives. 

Ezra closed his eyes. He did not want to think of his parents. He could not stop the anger of their deaths from rising, how they had selfishly rebelled knowing full well of the consequences and then leaving Ezra alone to fend for himself. Rebelling against the Empire never did any good - look where he ended up: in a prison cell, tortured until he gave in or sentenced to death.

Heaving a big sigh, Ezra chose to banish his thoughts and attempt to sleep. Sleep, however, did not come easy with his back feeling as if it were on fire. Most of the night he had spent coming in and out of sleep, being awoken by pain and nightmares. When morning came, or at least he thought it was morning as another food ration and water bowl sat near the cell door, Ezra gave up on sleeping.

Any moment the guards would waltz in and drag him off for another day of suffering. Only, no one ever came. Time went by very slowly as Ezra continued to lay still on the floor, his heart hammering in anticipation. Eventually hunger and thirst won out and Ezra crawled, hissing in pain with each movement. Even after having eaten his rations and drank his water, the guards still did not come. 

Ezra began to wonder if he had woken up too early or if they had simply forgotten him, or perhaps they were giving him time to heal although that was even more unlikely than the second possibility. The first option seemed more unlikely - the Inquisitor enjoyed tormenting him too much. But after waiting for what seemed like for hours, Ezra ended up falling asleep from pure exhaustion and boredom. When he came to, dinner rations were waiting which; he hadn’t woken up too early and they hadn’t forgotten him.

This time Ezra managed to sit up, trying his best to ignore the stretching of his burnt skin on his back as he attempted to get as comfortable as possible and began eating the tasteless ration bar. It felt off that he was not tortured today in an odd way, and  perhaps the Inquisitor wanted Ezra to let his guard down. To feel as if he was, in a way, safe. But Ezra was no fool to such manipulation and stayed on guard as long as he could. He could only do so much for so long before his body gave out to restless sleep.

The second day came and Ezra spent it pacing up and down his small cell, waiting. Waiting for the guards to march into his cell and take him away. It wasn’t like Ezra wanted to be tortured, but the waiting was almost just as bad. It had left an unscratchable itch beneath his skin and it drove him up the walls. And now that he wasn’t distracted by being tortured, all he had to entertain him were his thoughts - the one thing he did not want to be left alone with. 

Kanan and the  _ Ghost _ were constantly on his mind, deepening his resentment towards the Spectres. Ezra did not even think it was possible to know hatred deeper than his hatred towards the Empire. But with the constant fuming over how Kanan had left him to this fate, Ezra’s hatred grew and grew, almost to the point of putting him into a blind fit of rage. Punching the durasteel wall and the endless pacing did little to help relieve the overwhelming emotions, only bruising his knuckles in the process. 

By the third day, loneliness was starting to creep up on Ezra. He had not seen another soul for three days, not even hearing another person outside his cell. The food only ever arrived when Ezra was asleep, which was an uncomfortable acknowledgement that someone was in his cell without his awareness. But he was beginning to long to see someone -  _ anyone _ . Even the Inquisitor would be an almost welcomed face by this point. 

Ezra let out a frustrated scream as he stopped pacing for what seemed to be the thousandth time that day. He couldn’t take this anymore. He had to get out of this cell, he did not care if it was to be tortured again, at least it would be a change in scenery. Anything but this cell.

“Please! Anyone hear me?!” Ezra slammed the cell door with his fist, pulling at the tight skin of his back and causing it to sting. He ignored it as he continued to desperately catch someone's attention. There had to be guards outside the door, there always was. “Please! Let me out! I cannot take it anymore!”

No one answered.

Ezra spent another fifteen minutes in an attempt to provoke a response. Even hearing a voice would soothe his mind that was now in constant turmoil of negativity and loneliness. But still, no one answered. Not even the sound of someone walking or moving on the other side of the door.

Curling up on the ground, Ezra ignored his sore wounds as he sobbed. He hated this. Hated that he was rendered to nothing but a sobbing, scared mess. It had only been three days of solitude, three days of being left wondering when he would be dragged off to the torture room, three days left with his fuming thoughts. 

It would be on the fourth day when the door hissed open, waking Ezra from his sleep in an instant. Immediately he sat up and blinked a few times to see a tall figure approaching. For a split instant, Ezra had thought the shadowy figure was Kanan, but upon closer inspection, the figure was clad in grey and black and had ashen grey skin. It was the Inquisitor. 

Ezra silently cursed himself for being ridiculous with expecting anyone else. He hated Kanan, but he also hated being here at Fortress Inquisitorius. 

“Looking well,” was all the Inquisitor said in a mocking tone before grabbing Ezra by the arm and pulling him to his feet. Ezra did not say a word or struggle as he was dragged down the familiar corridors. Instead, he took the moment to look around, examining every buckethead he passed by in relief. Four days may seem short, but to Ezra they had felt like an eternity. 

When they reached the interrogation chamber, Ezra’s stomach dropped. Although he had said he would rather be in here than in his cell, the memories of his time spent here rushed in. Even now, he could smell the burning of his flesh under the touch of the lightsaber, making bile rise. 

Ezra cried out in pain when his body contacted the hard floor below. In his line of sight, he could see black boots approaching him and he stopped himself from flinching when they stopped in front of him.

“Have you made your decision to become my apprentice yet, my boy?” The Inquisitor asked. Ezra  _ had _ thought about it and he would lie if he was to say he wasn’t tempted by this point. It would stop all the suffering and it would allow him to leave this place, and more desirable, it would give him the chance of getting back at Kanan and the  _ Ghost _ . But as tempting as it all was, Ezra still felt like he would be betraying his parents. 

As if reading his thoughts, the Inquisitor continued. “Your parents knew they could not stand up to the Empire, they knew of the consequences and yet they continued.”

Ezra gritted his teeth and glared up at the tall alien. The Inquisitor only looked back with burning eyes and an arrogant smile. “They said it was all for you, but in reality it was entirely all for selfish reasons. They left you behind, just like your master did.”

“You’re wrong, my parents  _ loved _ me!”

“Perhaps, but that does not change the fact that they chose to rebel instead of raising their son.”

The words stung, but Ezra could not deny some truth behind them. For so long he had wondered what life would have been like if his parents did not rebel against the Empire. They would probably be back on Lothal in their common room, laughing together over a meal. But such dreams brought nothing but pain and Ezra tried not to think about it. 

“Shut up!” It was a childish response, but Ezra could not think of anything smart to say to the Inquisitor. 

The Inquisitor chuckled, knowing he had hit a nerve. “Now, now, is that any way to speak to your master?”

“You’re _not_ my master!” Ezra gritted out. The Inquisitor grabbed Ezra’s matted hair and pulled him closer.

“Have I not been teaching you how to withstand pain better? Making you stronger?”

_What kind of sick logic was this?_ Ezra thought to himself as he continued to glare at the alien. The Inquisitor let go of his hair and bent down to Ezra’s level and took hold of Ezra’s chin. 

“It seems like even after all that time you had to yourself, you are in need of a lesson,” the Inquisitor said and his grip tightened when Ezra tried to pull away. The other hand then came to wrap around Ezra’s left hand.

“Tell me, who is causing you all this pain?” The Inquisitor asked, his voice lacking any emotion causing Ezra to feel an unease creep up on him. Ezra was not sure what to make of the question and looked at the Inquisitor in confusion. 

“ _ Who is causing you all this pain? _ ” The Inquisitor asked again. When Ezra failed to answer for the second time, the Inquisitor pushed the boy’s hand slightly backwards, causing a mild discomfort.

“Y-you!” Ezra cried out in panic and pain. Apparently that was the wrong answer as the Inquisitor bended Ezra’s hand back even further.

“ _ Who is causing you all this pain? _ ” The Inquisitor asked again with a tinge of impatience in his voice as he continued his assault on Ezra’s hand. The pain intensified immensely, causing waves of electricity up his arm and the attempt to pull away from the unyielding grip had only caused it to hurt more.

“The  _ G-Ghost _ !” Ezra sobbed out desperately. 

The Inquisitor didn’t ask the question aloud again but continued to slowly bend Ezra’s hand backward and Ezra began to panic. His hand wouldn’t be able to go back much further. The wrist joint started to creak under the pressure, making Ezra’s stomach twist and turn from the sharp, uncomfortable pain. 

Obviously this wasn’t the answer the Inquisitor was looking for and Ezra’s panicked mind could barely form any coherent sentences. 

“KANAN JARRUS!” He quickly corrected himself after a few seconds pause, but it was already too late. The joint could no longer support the pressure and a loud  _ snap _ sounded, soon followed by Ezra’s wail. 

“Yes,  _ Kanan Jarrus _ is the cause of your agony.  _ I _ am only training you to become stronger and to withstand such sufferings.” The Inquisitor’s tone lacked any hint of remorse as to what he had just done to Ezra’s wrist, and Ezra knew better than to question the Inquisitor’s logic by this point. “Do  _ not _ forget this.”

The Inquisitor let go of Ezra’s now broken wrist and rose to his full height. It was not long before two bucketheads entered the chamber to take Ezra back to his cell, concluding the torture session over. It was the shortest session ever, but Ezra felt like the Inquisitor had proved the point that he had wanted to make. 

Before Ezra was dragged out of the interrogation chamber, the Inquisitor called out.

“Oh, and Ezra, do you not think your parents would have wanted you to have justice against traitorous acts such as the one that the Jedi pulled on you? The offer to become my apprentice and to teach the rebels a lesson still stands.”

With that, Ezra was dragged away, the Inquisitor’s words echoing in his mind.

That night, Ezra tossed and turned as much as his body allowed, cradling his wrist to his chest in comfort. His parents  _ had _ always told him to stand up, but more for those who could not stand up for themselves. But that did not mean that Ezra did not want justice -  _ revenge _ \- against the Spectres. And the pain, it was unbearable.

His wrist was now swollen and an ugly shade of purple and blue, and the throbbing pain was almost too much. Every small movement caused a sharp pain. Fortunately, his back had healed slightly although Ezra was almost certain it was slightly infected. Either way, he was happy it did not hurt as much as when he first got it -  _ that _ , or the pain of his wrist outweighed the pain of his back. 

Even so, Ezra had to acknowledge he was at his breaking point. He felt so exhausted. If death was not to come, and if giving in was the closest thing to freedom and peace, then perhaps… 

Heaving a sigh, Ezra closed his eyes. To accept the offer would stop all this pain, this suffering; the tortures would cease to be and that in itself was a great temptation. Then Ezra would be trained to be stronger and more powerful than Kanan could ever have thought he could be. He would be better than the Jedi. And then… then he would have his revenge... 

However, the only downside to this offer was the Empire; the dark side did not bother him as much anymore. Ezra was never taught anything about it by Kanan, although that was no surprise. But by this point, there was nothing left to lose. Ezra’s resolve eroded away like rusted metal, he had no friends, no parents, and no home. And besides, why should he continue to be punished when it should be Kanan suffering?

Ezra swallowed back the shame, he had made up his mind. He would give himself to the ones that had murdered his parents. 

_ Mom… _

_ Dad… _

_ I’m sorry. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Ezra is not too out of character. My train of thoughts for this chapter was: I know he hates the Empire and wants justice for what they did to his parents, but I also feel like a 15 year old can only take so much? Definitely one, although Force-sensitive, not trained to withstand torture. Another motivation I used was that Ezra had been on his own since 7 and never trusted anyone, and then came the Ghost, and he learnt to trust again - the first time in 8 years. Just imagine how that would feel if he thought he was abandoned and subjugated to this torture. So that was my reasoning for breaking Ezra and since he is a survivor, he would want to live. 
> 
> Anyways, next chapter things will move along and there won't be anymore tortures (for now)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra begins training

The Inquisitor gave a pleased smile as he eyed the boy being dragged into the interrogation chamber. After almost three weeks, the Inquisitor had done it. He had finally broken the boy, leaving him an empty shell, one that the Inquisitor could mold into an useful tool for the Emperor. 

And all it took for the Inquisitor to break the boy were some well-timed cards, one he had done previously the Second Sister. Betrayal was the perfect motivation for revenge and to take the plunge into the dark side. The only difference with the Second Sister and Ezra was that the Second Sister had no connection to the Empire other than the betrayal of the clones who then became stormtroopers. 

Ezra, however, hated the Empire for taking away his parents. But the Inquisitor could see that he finally got past that barrier and the boy had chosen the path of least resistance, just like the Inquisitor knew Ezra would do. The orphan was a survivor at heart and would always end up thinking of himself in the end. 

The Inquisitor would admit, however, and only to himself, that he had been nearing the end of his ropes. With Vader only providing him four weeks to break the boy and then giving him a personal mission after the second week, the Inquisitor had felt relentless frustration at the possibility of failing. Fortunately for the Inquisitor, the solitude that had been implemented on the boy was just what was needed to break him. Manipulating Ezra when he had been on the verge of breaking down was just the final step.

Ezra was forced onto his knees in front of the Inquisitor and the boy looked up at him with a gleam of determination and hatred. Hatred towards Kanan Jarrus, hatred towards the  _ Ghost _ , and hatred towards the Inquisitor.  _ Good _ , the Inquisitor thought, delighted. _T_ _ his I could work with _ . The boy hating him would only prove to be advantageous in the long run - hatred was an emotion of the dark side and provided power to those that allowed it to flow freely within them. 

“Teach me the ways of the Force… Master.” Ezra’s throat tightened and his voice was strained from dehydration and perhaps nervousness.

“Then pledge your loyalty to me, to the Emperor, and the Empire,” the Inquisitor ordered, his smile turning into a sinister smirk. The boy lowered his head in submission.

“I pledge myself to you, to the Emperor, and the Empire,” he said every word quietly but without hesitance. 

“Excellent,” the Inquisitor said, pleased. “Rise, my apprentice.” 

He then turned his attention to the two stormtroopers that took Ezra in. “See to it that my apprentice is properly treated for his injuries.”

The guards jerked their heads in understanding before grabbing Ezra by the shoulders and started guiding him out of the interrogation chamber.

“And Apprentice, after being treated and cleaning up, we will begin your training.”

____

Ezra nearly sighed in relief when the medical droid finished healing his wrist with a bone-knitter. The procedure had felt uncomfortable, but the after effects were almost immediate as the pulsating ache dulled down along with the swelling. The wrist was still rather sensitive to the touch, but that should go away within a few days. 

The other cuts were looked at and disinfected with a disinfectant spray, making Ezra slightly wince at the stinging sensation. The worst wound was on his back that had not healed properly and had started to show signs of infection. The medical attention had been so painful that Ezra had to be held down while the droid cleaned it, picking out pieces of clothing and dirt that had singed onto the wound. 

Now that that had been taken care of, Ezra’s exhausted body felt slightly better. He was thoroughly looking forward to the next part as he stepped into the ‘fresher. Ezra had not taken a shower since he was taken prisoner and despite his wounds being taken care of, Ezra felt as dirty as bantha fodder, and most likely smelled like it, too. 

The first thing to greet Ezra as he walked into the small room was a mirror and Ezra nearly tumbled back from the shock. He could barely recognise himself and had to touch his face to see if the person in the reflection would mirror the movement; he did. 

Ezra’s cheeks were hollow from the lack of proper nourishment, his blue eyes lacked the usual lustrous glow as they sat in sunken eye sockets. His once beautiful long hair was not matted and drenched in oils and sweats, and was probably no longer salvageable with brushing and he saw from the corner of his eyes a hair clipper that had been placed out on top of the sink. He would use it after his shower he decided and he drew his attention away from the clipper and back to the mirror. 

Already being shirtless from the medical examination, Ezra’s eyes dropped to the scars and bruises that were scattered over his chest and stomach. They were all small - except for the slash across the chest, that one took up the whole width of the chest - and bright red, still angry from being disinfected, but other than that, did not look as bad as they felt.

Taking a deep breath, Ezra trembled as he slowly turned around, holding back a sob as he peeked at his back. The angry cauterised marks that formed a neatly drawn emblem of the Galactic Empire stared back at Ezra through the mirror, making his stomach twist and turn. Anxiety took hold and Ezra quickly drew his eyes away, not able to bare the sight any longer. He barely made it as he heaved into the toilet, no longer able to contain his nausea. 

Ezra took a few minutes to calm himself as he tightly gripped the sides of the toilet, his body trembling with every pant. Never had he felt so out of place in his own body, so humiliated and ashamed of his own skin that it brought tears to his eyes. To know that the Inquisitor, who now was his master, carve the very symbol of the Empire in his back was one thing, but seeing it was another thing altogether. 

After finally managing to compose himself, Ezra made his way to the shower and turned the water to steaming hot. The burn of the hot water felt good and distracting, and Ezra cleaned himself as best as he could, being mindful of his wounds as well as being mindful of the time. He did not want to keep his ‘ _ master’ _ waiting too long, knowing he had probably already used up most of the Inquisitor’s patience over the past month. 

A few moments later, Ezra finally reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Still dressed in a towel, Ezra took the clipper and looked one final time at his hair before raising the clipper and buzzing his hair away. His head felt lighter than before, and much cleaner. _A new start, a new hairdo_ , Ezra mused somberly, it did not make him feel much better emotional-wise. 

The guards had provided new clothes, ones similar to stormtrooper’s underclothing as Ezra’s clothes were nothing more than dirty rags at this point. He did not want to wear the black clothing, it felt foreign and it made his decision to swear loyalty to the Empire feel all the more real.  Sighing, he straightened his back and stepped out of the ‘fresher to start his new journey as the Inquisitor’s apprentice.

The training was almost as brutal as the tortures. 

“Pain and anger will make you stronger,” the Inquisitor encouraged, striking Ezra again and the boy stumbled back with a grunt. "Bend them to your will, use them to enhance your physical abilities via the Force." 

The dark side felt... cold. At first, Ezra had wanted to recoil from its touch, but much like the time when he went swimming in cool freshwater oceans on Lothal, his body adjusted after a while. The coldness then became a part of him and no longer made Ezra feel uncomfortable. In fact, it felt almost natural - easier. 

Ezra had struggled with using the Force while under the guidance of Kanan. He could never grasp how to efficiently clear his mind of any emotion or distraction, which of course had caused Kanan to frustratedly shout out at Ezra to ‘focus’. Here, Ezra was encouraged to use his emotions as a strength, to bend the Force to his will. 

Ezra paused to catch his breath after avoiding yet another blow from the Inquisitor and took the moment to scour his surroundings.

They had moved to a different room, a room specifically made for combat training. It again had the typical platforms with a sea of lava flowing closely underneath. The heat at first was unbearable, leaving his mouth dry and his skin in a constant coat of sweat. Now after a few days, he was used to it and even welcomed the heat. 

The platforms themselves were also moveable. The middle section could be shifted up against the walls to expose the lava below, making an obstacle course for Ezra to practice his wall runs. There had been a few close calls - _too close_ _for Ezra’s taste_ \- but he was getting a hang of it and the exercises improved Ezra’s stamina and agility skills. 

So far, it had been mostly physical exercises. Every training session they would start off with warm-ups, which included running around the dojo and then the Inquisitor, after a while, would then move the platforms at random to strengthen Ezra’s Force sight. This was followed by strength training such as pushups and situps, and then by a short session of sparring. All in all, Ezra was exhausted by the time he got back to his room. But he felt good, stronger, and that was all that mattered. 

Ezra was taken out of his musings when he sensed approaching danger and quickly ducked to avoid a kick. He barely had time to raise his arm to block the second blow, this time being a fist. Ezra then decided to land his own kick in, aiming for the Inquisitor’s sides. Unfortunately, the Inquisitor having much more experience quickly reacted and grabbed Ezra’s leg and used the motion to swing the boy away and onto the ground. Ezra let out a groan as he landed hard on his back.

“You’re improving, my apprentice,” the Inquisitor commented, pleased with Ezra’s progress. It had only been a week, but with the boy’s determination, progress had been quicker than anticipated. “Let’s try something new, shall we?”

The Inquisitor approached the boy and sat down, cross-legged. Ezra slowly pulled himself up into the same sitting position, his bare back glistening with sweat. He looked at his master with curiosity as the Inquisitor grabbed something attached to his belt. It was a metal cube, about the same size as a Jedi holocron - only it wasn’t a holocron. In fact, there did not seem to be anything special about the cube.

“Let’s start off with something more… basic…” the Inquisitor said as he put the cube down in front of Ezra. “Such as levitation.”

Just the word itself made Ezra feel frustrated. Back on the  _ Ghost _ , whenever he would attempt to levitate an object, Chopper would always make it into some prank. This time, there was no astromech droid and there was no need to clear his mind of emotions.

“Now, reach out through the Force,” the Inquisitor started to explain. “Use your emotions as an aid - your hate, your anger, and your pain.”

Ezra’s thoughts immediately drifted to Kanan and his blood boiled beneath his skin. Using this anger, Ezra raised his palm out towards the cube and closed his eyes in concentration. Much to his surprise and delight, the cube was easily lifted off the ground. His eyes snapped open to see the cube floating and called it towards his outstretched hand, and took a moment to examine the metal object before drifting his attention to his master.

The Inquisitor nodded in approval. “Now, I want you to lift and manipulate these objects for the next hour.”

The door slid open and a few droids walked in, bringing with them objects of different sizes and weights. Ezra spent the next hour lifting, pushing, and moving the objects around using his fresh betrayal as a wellspring of strength. Near the end, he even dared to attempt to move multiple objects although struggled slightly. He made a promise to himself that he would be able to move at least two heavy objects by the end of the month.

By the end of the hour, Ezra’s training session had been concluded and Ezra was escorted back to his room. Even after a week, he still had two guards guiding him. It was most likely a precaution, Ezra doubted that the Inquisitor was foolish enough to trust him blindly. And he can’t say he blamed the Inquisitor for the precaution either. Ezra still hated the alien, as well as the Empire. This was just the best path presented to him at the time. 

The room where he now slept in was small and simple. Just like every other infrastructure of the Empire, it lacked any hint of personality, only bearing grey dull walls. The single, hard bed was tucked away in the far left corner accompanied by a small nightside table. To the right of the room was a decent sized wardrobe that took the whole height of the wall and next to it was a door that led to the one thing that Ezra could appreciate. A private refresher. 

Forcing his sore body to move, Ezra headed into the ‘fresher. He stripped his sweat covered clothing and dared a peek over his shoulder and into the mirror. The healed scars on his back still made his stomach twist uncomfortable and Ezra doubted he could ever get used to the sight. It now served a constant reminder that Ezra was the Empire’s obedient lapdog.  _ This is the path I have chosen _ , Ezra reminded himself as he looked away.

Over the course of the next week, the Inquisitor began teaching Ezra how to create mind barriers and how to penetrate them. Of course, Ezra did not force his way into the Inquisitor’s mind, but instead a stormtrooper that had ‘volunteered’ to be a guinea pig. 

It was more complicated than Ezra had anticipated - both the shield forming and mind probing. Each time that he thought he had made a strong shield, the Inquisitor stormed through it, bringing agonising pain. Ezra cried out, screwing his eyes shut as he felt his master worm his way into his mind. He felt violated each time and he hated the sensation, making him all the more determined to try harder. It would take a week before Ezra began to get a hang of it.

Mind probing was a different matter. Although it was complicated, it came much easier. Ezra already knew he had somewhat a gift for connecting with other beings, but Kanan had tried teaching him to form a connection rather than forcing his way into the mind of another. It had felt wrong to force entry into something as private as one’s own mind, but the pleased smile that the Inquisitor gave Ezra made it worth it.

That thought made Ezra’s stomach drop. Although he had pledged himself to the Inquisitor, and ultimately the Empire, that did not mean he looked up the Pau’an. He did not know when he had started looking for his master’s approval, but here he was, receiving a disgusting warm sensation as the Inquisitor showed his approval when Ezra successfully mind probed a stormtrooper. 

The process was exhausting and Ezra felt completely spent afterwards. 

“You are improving faster than anticipated, my boy,” the Inquisitor said after a while. “However… you seem to struggle forming a strong mind barrier. This is something we will have to work on if you ever want to become stronger than Kanan.”

Ezra straightened his shoulders at the mention of the name. He refused to be weaker than Kanan.

“For now, rest. Tomorrow we will continue.”

“Thank you, Master.”

And so, Ezra went to his room in a swirl of emotions. Now he felt more determined than ever to become stronger and more powerful - much more so than Kanan. But under all that determination, Ezra could feel a sliver of worry forming in his chest. This wasn’t the first time he had called the Inquisitor ‘Master’, Ezra had usually said the title more as a means of playing his part. This was only a means of an easier route, one far better than to be continued tortured endlessly. But now… now Ezra started to wonder when he had actually started thinking of the Inquisitor as ‘Master’. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Ezra gets his lightsaber


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra gets his lightsaber
> 
> Warning, death of OCs

Training had been going smoothly and Ezra was making great progress over the last three weeks. Now, Ezra stood before five stormtroopers who had their blasters aimed at the boy, awaiting orders. Ezra, on the other hand, had no physical weapons - only the Force. He crouched down, ready to jump when necessary to avoid any blasts.

“Commence training,” the Inquisitor said from the control room of the dojo, overlooking the training session.

Ezra, with the help of the Force, jumped backwards just in time to avoid a barrage of blasts. Upon landing, he quickly Force pushed a group of three stormtroopers and quickly rolled to his left to avoid blasts from the smaller group. He knew exactly what the ‘troopers were planning and knew if he did not stop them from surrounding him from all sides, Ezra would be in trouble.

Fifteen minutes passed without any progress and Ezra let out a huff of frustration. No matter how many times he pushed back the stormtroopers, they got up and regrouped. Fortunately, Ezra had prevented them thus far from circling him completely and was able to keep most in his line of sight. Ezra was about to move away again when all of a sudden the ground beneath him began to move. The Inquisitor was moving up the platforms.

Ezra jumped to the last remaining middle platform that stayed put. He was about to turn his focus back to the stormtroopers when a blast scurried across his side, earning a hiss. The blasters may have been set to a lower intensity setting that would only cause mild scratching and bruising, but that did not change the fact that it still hurt.

Turning around, Ezra realised too late that during his distraction, two stormtroopers made their way to the other side of the platform. He was surrounded now.

Your pain will give you strength. Use it,” the Inquisitor encouraged over the speaker. 

And strength it did give. Ezra closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel everything - all the hate and pain he had accumulated over his life, and more intensely, the recent betrayal still fresh in his memories. It had been overwhelming, throwing Ezra into a blind fit of rage and power. He could barely comprehend what he was doing as he fought aimlessly against the stormtroopers.

Using the Force to evade the blasts, Ezra pulled the two stormtroopers from the far side of the platform towards him before pushing them off onto the walls to his right. Ezra didn’t give a second glance as they bounced off the walls and one of them being the unfortunate one to fall into the flowing lava. He turned his attention to the now frightened remaining stormtroopers who continued their assault of blasts, this time the setting was no longer on low intensity. Ezra smirked when he felt a blast hit his shoulder. Even with the blasters set to kill, they all knew it was futile. 

Two of the three remaining stormtroopers were pushed back into the wall, rendering them unconscious from the impact. The last stormtrooper Ezra engaged in a quick hand-to-hand combat before using the Force to also render ‘trooper unconscious.

When Ezra finally came to and the fog clouding his mind lessened, he was panting and covered in sweat. His brows furrowed in confusion as he scoured the platform. Never had he fully allowed himself to give into his emotions like that, at least not to that extent. And remembrance of pushing one of the stormtroopers into lava without a second thought made him feel nauseated. 

Sure he was probably being hypocritical seeing that he _had_ killed stormtroopers in the past - mostly by accident, mind you. But here he had killed one without mercy and by that point, the stormtrooper was already defenceless. It was everything he had been taught against in the past. _This is the path you have chosen_ , Ezra reminded himself, swallowing hard.

The Inquisitor did not seem to be affected by the loss of a stormtrooper. Instead he praised Ezra for it. “You did well, Apprentice,” he praised as he gave Ezra’s good shoulder a squeeze. “Keep this up, and you will be rewarded with your very own lightsaber.”

This certainly caught Ezra’s attention. Even after spending six months with the _Ghost_ had he not been given a lightsaber. Kanan went on and on about how having a lightsaber did not make you a Jedi. And now, only three weeks in, Ezra was already given a possibility of having one of his own - _if_ he continued his good progress and obedience, of course. 

“Thank you, Master,” Ezra said. He would train harder to get closer to his goal. Soon he would have a lightsaber, soon he would be one step closer for exacting his revenge. 

“Now, let’s work on your mind barrier.”

The training continued smoothly for the next week and as promised, he would be getting his lightsaber. Ezra could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of having his own lightsaber, earning unreadable stares from his master. He briefly wondered if his master was amused or annoyed by his display of happiness, but the Inquisitor kept quiet and so Ezra continued smiling. 

For this task, they had to leave Fortress Inquisitorius, which Ezra had found out was located on a watery moon called Nur, and go to some backwater planet in another part of the Outer Rim. Which planet that was, the Inquisitor did not say.

After hours in hyperspace, they finally arrived on a planet one similar to that of Lothal, only it was drier, being more of a desert planet, and the grasses were more yellow than green. They landed the shuttle two kilometers from a small city that had built its way into the rock formations surrounding the landscape. They walked their way through the dusty streets with the Inquisitor in lead and Ezra following closely behind, and Ezra could not help but to look around in wonder. 

They were trudging through what seemed to be the market part of the city. Colourful canopy decorated the sides of the busy street, vendors selling goods of food and exotics to passerbys. Ezra noted with interest that no one seemed to notice their presence, but perhaps the people of this city accepted the Empire’s presence or simply did not care. 

“So, where we going to find this lightsaber?” Ezra asked after they exited the busy street in favor of a quiet alleyway on the side. For a brief moment, Ezra’s throat tightened in fear when he thought that perhaps he spoke out of turn or asked an inappropriate question when the Inquisitor remained quiet. But no blow came.

“You will see,” the Inquisitor said after a while. Ezra knew he would not get any more information out of his master, and certainly did not want to push his luck. The Inquisitor was a patient being, however demanded obedience and respect.

After many twists and turns, they ended up in what could be considered the slumps of the city. Ezra’s nose scrunched up from the smell and tried his best to ignore the more unsightly sights and scents. Eventually the Inquisitor stopped in front of a tall, narrow building that seemed to be eroding away from wear and tear. The windows were barricaded with planks of wood, making it impossible to peer inside. Ezra looked at the building curiously before shifting his questioning gaze to the Inquisitor.

“This is where we will find your lightsaber,” the Inquisitor said. “However, this is also a test… and if you fail…”

He did not need to finish the sentence for Ezra to get the gist of the message. Still, Ezra felt weary as he was not presented any actual information as to what he would be up against. And he did not ask.

The Inquisitor then turned to face the durasteel door, not bothering with attempting to unlock it electronically and instead, ignited his lightsaber and cut through the metal. The oval cut fell to the floor with a dull thud and the Inquisitor stepped aside, beckoning Ezra to enter first. Ezra’s heart raced as he walked into the dark building. What little furniture there was was covered in a thin blanket and everything was dusty for the most part, but through the small slits of light that managed to get through, Ezra could see small signs of life. Someone lived here. Someone that did not want to be found.

Ezra watched as the Inquisitor marched into the centre of the room, examining the ragged carpet beneath his feet. Ezra was not sure what his master expected to find, or if there even _was_ a lightsaber here, but he remained quiet and continued to observe. Then, after a minute, the Inquisitor kicked the carpet away revealing a trap door. Upon closer inspection, Ezra could tell that it was one of higher security than the one he had in his childhood home; it was made of a thick layer of metal and the only way to open was with the right code. That, or with a lightsaber.

The metal hissed and gave away to the red blade, falling to the ground at the end of the tunnel with a loud _thunk_. Ezra stared down the dark hole, wondering how deep it was; judging by the sound, it must have been at least five metres down. 

“After you, my boy,” the Inquisitor gestured to the ladder and Ezra grudgingly followed the orders and began to climb down. Ezra flinched when his foot did not meet another step below and instead came in contact with solid ground. _I must have reached the bottom_ , he thought as he attempted to glance around but there was barely enough light to see anything. 

He made room for the Inquisitor who he assumed was nearby due to rustling sound of clothing and not a moment later, the tunnel was lit up with an eerie red. Ezra could now see that there was a narrow continuation of the tunnel that led to a door - one of also high security technology. This time, the Inquisitor went first, having to cut their way through.

As Ezra followed closely behind, he started to feel a growing unease in the pit of his stomach. Whatever was behind that door, was terrified. He could feel the fear growing in the Force, spiking with each step they took and it made Ezra feel sick and hesitant. 

The door gave way and they stepped into the dimly lit room. It looked like a small storage room; along each wall were stacked shelves filled with what appeared to be random trinkets. Only the far end wall had more things of use such as rows of books and scrolls, and another with rations. His eyes immediately dropped to a hooded figure that sat huddled in front of the latter shelf.

“Is that… a person?” Ezra gasped out. The figure’s brown robes shifted slightly, just enough to reveal frightened green eyes that belonged to an old man.

“More precisely, a Jedi. A traitor and enemy of the Empire,” The Inquisitor replied and turned to face Ezra with an expressionless face. “I want you to take his lightsaber from him.”

“I- _What?_ ” Ezra looked desperately between his master and the Jedi. Although he had done four weeks of training, he had never engaged in lightsaber combat, much less barehanded at that. “I… I don’t have a weapon, Master,” Ezra finished off lamely. He flinched when he caught the slight tug of disapproval on the Inquisitor’s lips. 

“The Force is your weapon, bend it to your will to do your bidding.”

“P-Please,” a voice croaked from the far end of the room. It was the Jedi. “It doesn’t have to be this way, son.” 

Ezra hesitated.

The Jedi moved his hood back, revealing old tanned skin, long, wild white hair, and an unkept white beard. The man almost reminded Ezra of Sumar, an old farmer back on Lothal. Both had friendly faces, although the one of the Jedi was overridden with fear. It was almost pathetic to see a Jedi - the so called brave peacekeepers of the galaxy - in such a state of terror. 

“Get rid of him and take his lightsaber,” the Inquisitor said as if sensing Ezra’s hesitation. “This is but the first step on your path to greatness… to revenge.”

Ezra clenched his fists and drew in a deep breath before exhaling in an attempt to muster all the confidence he possibly could. _This… this has to be done_.

From his peripheral vision, Ezra could see the Jedi’s trembling hand hovering over the lightsaber stashed away just below the robes. The next moment happened so fast, Ezra barely had time to think and acted on instincts. The Jedi leaped up to his feet, igniting his green blade and Ezra hastily called for the Force and pushed the man back. 

The Jedi’s back hit against the shelves behind but it did little to disway him as he steadied his balance. Ezra jumped to the side as the Jedi leaped forward and it was only a split second later that Ezra realised he wasn’t the target. The Jedi aimed his blade towards the Inquisitor who stood in the far back of the room near the entrance. Seeing this, Ezra pulled one of the shelves down with the Force, temporarily blocking the Jedi’s path. 

“Hey! Your fight’s with me, old man!” 

“I will not fight a child, much less a defenceless child,” the Jedi countered. The comment irked Ezra and he let out a growl before lifting his hand up, curling his fingers inwards.

“I am _not_ a child, and I’m especially not defenceless.” The Jedi’s eyes bulged and his free hand came up to his neck as he was lifted a few centimeters off the ground. Ezra did not even realise what he was doing until a flash of green snapped him out of his trance. He quickly jumped to the side, his left shoulder smashing onto the ground, as he avoided the lightsaber soaring through the air. 

Ezra ignored the ache in his shoulder as he got up, eyeing his opponent warily. The Jedi laid there, wheezing as he greedily inhaled the much needed air. He then glanced behind him to see the still bright marks that scratched the broken shelf and wall. That was a close one. 

“You don’t have to do this, son!” the Jedi wheezed out. “It’s not too late for you - you don’t have to tread down this path!”

Ezra knew that there were other options, but he also knew that they would fail. The Jedi was not strong enough to defeat the Inquisitor and Ezra was definitely no match for his master. No, the only option for Ezra was to defeat the Jedi and take his lightsaber for his own. However, there was still a lingering hesitant part of Ezra. A part that did not want to kill an old man. He was a Jedi and that _was_ what inquisitors do - they hunt down and kill Jedi. But this Jedi was not Kanan Jarrus and the only reason Ezra _had_ taken up this path was because of his desire for his revenge towards Kanan. 

“No,” Ezra swallowed hard. “I _have_ to do this.”

He said it more towards himself than to the Jedi. If Ezra failed, he would have to face the wrath of his master and he knew exactly what the Inquisitor was capable of. 

Ezra jumped, using the Force to close the distance between him and the Jedi, and the Jedi was taken back by surprise. In that moment of distraction, Ezra quickly Force pushed the man hard into the shelves behind, making them topple over the Jedi. Reacting quickly, Ezra called the now deactivated lightsaber that laid beside the heap to his open palm. The cold metal of the hilt felt odd against Ezra’s skin, almost wrong. He did his best to ignore the discomfort and ignited the green plasma blade. 

Pieces of debris were pushed aside as the Jedi sat up, groaning in pain. The man’s face was covered in sweat, dirt and blood, and his unkempt hair somehow looked even messier than before. Ezra glanced down at the lightsaber before glancing back at the man, and his palms started to sweat and his heart felt as if it was going to burst. Never had he killed someone - not like this. This was a Jedi that had done nothing ill towards Ezra, he was even reluctant to fight the boy and the man wasn’t some kind of stormtrooper either. 

Quiet footsteps stopped behind Ezra and he had to hold back a flinch when he felt a cold hand on his bruised shoulder. 

“Good, my boy,” the Inquisitor said from behind, his voice stern and left no room for disobedience. “Now kill him.”

Ezra stared intently at the man on the ground, who stared back with wide, terrified eyes. The lightsaber began to tremble as Ezra’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly. 

“I… I-I can’t,” Ezra finally choked out after a moment of struggle. “I just can’t…”

The grip on his shoulder tightened, causing the waves of pain and Ezra cried out. “Are you defying me, Apprentice?” The Inquisitor sneered, displeased at Ezra’s hesitation of killing the Jedi. Ezra was forced to turn and stare into the deep, burning eyes of the Inquisitor. 

“No-” Ezra said automatically “-I mean… He is defenceless…” he quietly finished, motioning one hand towards the Jedi who sat there in silence, gaping at the duo. 

A hot pain flashed over Ezra’s cheek as his head snapped sideways from the blow. The Inquisitor then roughly grabbed Ezra by the hair and forced him down onto his knees, facing the Jedi. The boy then gasped out in pain as his master then took his injured arm and twisted it backwards. Memories of the time the Inquisitor snapped his wrist surfaced and Ezra’s heart dropped, knowing what the Inquisitor was planning to do. 

“I will _not_ be asking this again, _Apprentice_ ,” he spat out, adding slight pressure onto the arm, making Ezra whimper in pain. “Kill the Jedi.”

Ezra looked up at the Jedi before him, humiliated that he had to be taught a lesson in front of the man. If only he could do as he was told without hesitating he wouldn’t be in this mess, but Ezra could not bring himself to do it. Not like this, not with anyone other than Kanan or the rest of the _Ghost_ crew.

“You don’t have to do this,” the Jedi said again, softly. “There is still light in you, I can sense it… you are not all lost, I can _help_ you.”

Ezra scoffed. He didn’t need help, not from a Jedi. The last time he had help from a Jedi, he ended up abandoned in the hands of the Imperials, left for dead. “I don’t want or need your help, _Jedi_.”

Then after a brief moment of silence, Ezra added more softly, “but I don’t think I can kill you either…”

A loud _snap_ sounded soon followed by intense pain and a scream. The Inquisitor let go of the arm that now hung limply against Ezra’s side. His shoulder emitted an intense throbbing pain, causing his eyes to water. The Jedi could only observe in horror.

“Your stubbornness will get you nowhere, _boy_ ,” the Inquisitor sneered . “Your hypocritical thinking ends here. You claim to want revenge on Kanan Jarrus, but fail to see that _all_ Jedi are like Kanan. They are _all_ selfish traitors.”

Ezra could not disagree as he had not met any other Jedi - unless you counted Luminara Unduli, but she was long gone by the time he met her. But before he could say or do anything, the Inquisitor continued talking.

“And if you cannot complete this task… you will only cause yourself more pain than necessary until you do as you are told.”

Ezra wanted to protest, but held his tongue, knowing that nothing but pain would come out of it. He knew what to do, but did not know if he had the strength to do it. Closing his eyes, Ezra tightened his grip on the hilt, his palms growing sweaty. His bad shoulder ached terribly, but that was only the tip of what would come if he didn’t do this. 

His eyes snapped open when he felt weight on the tip of the blade and watched in horror as the Jedi impaled himself.

“Wha-?!” Ezra was uncertain as to what to make of the situation and somehow felt as if this was worse than killing the Jedi himself. 

The Jedi grunted in pain, and placed a weak hand gently on Ezra’s good shoulder. “I… I wanted to save… you from your… master’s wrath…” he gritted out, sharply inhaling between each syllable. "There is... still good inside of you..." 

Bile rose as Ezra understood what was happening. The Jedi pitied him. The realisation made him sick and he quickly deactivated the lightsaber, recoiling in disgust. The now lifeless body slumped forward, landing on the ground beside Ezra who could only continue to stare. 

“Pathetic,” the Inquisitor commented in disgust, letting go of Ezra’s hair and straightened his shoulders. “It would seem all Jedi think of you as too weak, either abandoning you or killing themselves for you."

Ezra gritted his teeth at the remark, but he couldn’t deny the truth behind them. He _was_ weak. Weak enough for the Jedi to sacrifice himself as if he was some kind hero saving someone’s life. The same so-called dogma that Kanan lived by, which was nothing more than a facade. One that now left Ezra feeling empty and powerless as he acknowledged that he had utterly failed his test and completely humiliated. 

"Perhaps... I was wrong about you," the Inquisitor then said and Ezra froze. His knuckles turned white on the hilt as his mind raced. 

" _No_ ," Ezra whispered.

"No?" The Inquisitor echoed. Ezra turned, ignoring the pain of his shoulder, and glowered at his master.

"I am _not_ weak." He knew the statement had little evidence to back it up, seeing that a Jedi had just sacrificed himself so that Ezra did not have to face punishment. "I will _not_ be weak... not anymore."

The Inquisitor smirked, "Then we will see."

Ezra watched as his master turned to leave the bunker and he forced himself to get up to his feet before clipping his prize to his belt. He glared down at the corpse as he brought his hand to his limp arm, cradling it gently to ease the ache. All this pain and humiliation... and for what? A lightsaber he couldn’t even get on his own? 

No more, he decided, no more would he hesitate, no more would he be thought of as weak or disgraced as he was today. Ezra would prove to his master that was a worthy apprentice, that he could become an inquisitor. Moving away from the corpse, Ezra left after his master without looking back, walking away from the dim light and into the darkness of the tunnel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Ezra is capable of brutally murdering people as seen in episode 1, season 3 (the controlling guy in AT-ST to kill his comrades before doing suicide), but those were Imperials and Ezra hated them to begin with. My friend and I agreed that Ezra would most likely not kill a person who had nothing wrong, and especially when he was completely aware of it (i.e. blind fit of range vs clear mind). 
> 
> I am not the best at writing fight scenes, but I enjoyed writing this chapter and hope you enjoyed reading it :) until next time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra bleeds his kyber crystal and begins training
> 
> Warning: implied abuse

Frustration.

That was all Ezra felt as he glared at the kyber crystal that sat harmlessly before him. It had been an hour and so far he had yet to make progress. Perhaps it was due to the distracting thought that this crystal had belonged to the Jedi that sacrificed himself just a week ago. The mere memory infuriated Ezra and again he had lost focus of the task at hand.

He thought back on the instructions his master gave him.

_ “To make the crystal yours, you’ll have to make it bleed,” the Inquisitor said, gesturing to the green crystal on the table. _

_ “Make it bleed?” The concept sounded weird to Ezra. How can a rock bleed, he thought. “How can I do that?” _

_ “That I will tell you… pour all your pain, your hate into the crystal. Break its will and bend it yours,” the Inquisitor instructed and his lips tugged into a knowing smile.  _

The instructions had seemed simple enough, but the crystal resisted Ezra and then Ezra would lose focus. How hard was it to simply focus? It seemed to be a recurring problem and he resented it. Was he truly weak?

“It would seem that such a simple task proves to be too difficult for you,” the Inquisitor commented, mockingly. He stood about a meter away overwatching Ezra’s progress and thus far, he did not look impressed. 

The comment made Ezra’s blood boil. He hated being weak, it was what got him abandoned in the first place. No one wanted a weakling on their side, and although the Inquisitor had been patient in training Ezra to become stronger, he could not make a simple crystal bend to his will. It was not even alive, at least not in the same sense that he was alive. He could feel the pulse of energy flowing through the crystal, and entertwined with it, was the Force signature of the dead Jedi, as if mocking him from the dead.

“Remember your anger, my boy,” the Inquisitor continued, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Or did you forgive the Jedi and the Rebels so easily? After all they put you through?”

Ezra’s throat tightened. _Forgive?_

“ _ No, _ ” he hissed out, clenching his fists. 

“Good. Now take that hatred, anger and sorrow that Jarrus and his _companions_ caused you and force it upon the crystal. Make it feel your anguish, your power.”

Ezra closed his eyes and hovered his hand over the crystal once more. He thought of how Kanan had treated Ezra for the months he had spent with the Jedi. The first month the Jedi avoided teaching Ezra until Hera got a word in, and then it had been nothing but do’s and don’ts. This then led to Kanan wanting to dump Ezra onto Luminara, and when that chance was gone, the Jedi left him for dead in the hands of the Inquisitor. 

The betrayal left a vile taste in Ezra’s mouth. He couldn’t believe he had trusted that traitorous Jedi, a man he had come to think of as… as a _father_. And it wasn’t just Kanan, it was the whole crew he had come to think of as a family. Something he had longed for for eight years while living on the streets. And they betrayed him. And not just betrayed, but had caused Ezra’s torment during his time in the interrogation chamber.

“Yes, good. Feel your hatred, let it grow within you,” Ezra heard the Inquisitor say, but blocked him out as he continued to concentrate on the task at hand. His  _ master _ was another source of dark emotions. All the pain he had been put through, even if it was at the fault of the Spectres, it had been unforgivably agonising. The physical pain from his back and broken bones to the emotional pain of the constant reminder of betrayal and the feeling of being unwanted swirled inside of Ezra and he could start to feel the crystal’s resilience give way.

Suddenly, as if a last attempt at defence, Ezra was engulfed in a blanket of darkness. He blinked in confusion as he looked at his surroundings, they looked familiar. The  _ Ghost, _ that was where he was, sitting on the couch in the common room. Laughter caught Ezra’s attention and all of a sudden the Spectres were sitting beside him, joking and sharing stories. The atmosphere was that of warmth and safety and comfort. A feeling he had forgotten over the past five weeks. 

The scene changed and Ezra found himself with Kanan. They were going through lightsaber exercises and Ezra noted that his blade was blue, much like Kanan’s. “You're doing well, Ezra,” Kanan would praise as he nodded in approval at Ezra’s stance. Pride swelled within him at the praise, it was something he had always wished to hear from Kanan.

The scene changed again, and Ezra found himself surrounded once again by the Spectres. Hera had her hand gently on Ezra’s shoulder and he could feel the warmth emitting from the touch. It felt so motherly, so comforting. Sabine and Zeb stood on the other side, smiling and Kanan was in front of Ezra. “I'm happy you are back, Ezra,” Kanan said with a gentle smile. “Welcome home.”

“No,” Ezra said. This was all wrong. And then he realised that it was a vision caused by the crystal. A vision of false hope and promises, one that could never come true. This was not an option for Ezra, not the path that he had chosen to walk down on. “LIAR!” Ezra yelled out angrily and with one final push, he poured all his pain from the span of his life into the crystal. It cracked, finally giving away and bled. 

Ezra let out shuddering breaths from the exertion, a sheen of precipitation covered his skin, making him feel clammy as he looked at the red crystal in bewilderment. _He did it_. He had finally done it. Almost gingerly, he picked it up and looked at his master for approval. The Inquisitor’s smile widened and his eyes gleamed in satisfaction.

“You’ve done well, my apprentice,” he praised and motioned to the already completed lightsaber hilt. “Now, place the crystals into the crystal energy chamber.”

Ezra did as he was told and placed it into the chamber along with a synthetic red crystal that the Inquisitor had given to him prior and sealed the chamber shut. He took a moment to admire his handiwork. It was a typical inquisitor’s lightsaber, sporting a ringed emitter that Ezra decorated with engravings found in a cave on Lothal which his parents showed pictures of when he was just a kid. It served as a reminder of his origins as well as how he ended up here. 

Taking a deep breath, Ezra grabbed the lightsaber and held it out before him. His heart pounded as he pressed down on one of the emitter buttons and a red blade came to life. His mouth hung open in amazement as he swung his blade, testing it. He finally had his own lightsaber.

A warning was felt though the Force and Ezra quickly raised his lightsaber in defence. His teeth gritted as the Inquisitor’s blade met his and was taken aback at the force. Ezra could tell that his master was going easy on him, having already seen him in action with Kanan, but that did not mean it was easy. 

They continued on for a while, Ezra clumsily parrying every blow. He never had much practice with the blade, only occasionally blocking trash thrown at him by Chopper and that had been a total disaster. And now when he thought of it, quite useless against another lightsaber. Eventually, Ezra was overwhelmed, the Inquisitor disarming him and cried out in pain when the red blade skimmed past his arm.

“The Jedi really did teach you nothing,” the Inquisitor sneered. His shoulders straightened as he deactivated his lightsaber, clipping it onto his back. “We will start with the basics. Come, we don’t have all day.”

At first, the Inquisitor gave a more theoretical lesson on lightsaber combat. Ezra ended up learning that there were a total of seven forms: Shii-Cho (I), Makashi (II),Soresu (III), Ataru (IV), Shien and Djem So (V), Niman (VI), and Juyo or Vaapad (VII). And the Inquisitor gave a brief detailing of each form along with a datapad with all of the information for Ezra to study on his own time. 

After that, Ezra went through the most basic form, Shii-Cho, first to get a hang of the lightsaber, using only one blade at first. Sweat glistened under the red glow of the lava as he ran through the stances for what seemed like the thousandth time and his frustration was beginning to show. Ezra had never been a patient person, most likely due to the fact that he was still no more than an adolescent - being only the young age of fifteen - and his muscles began to strain from being unused at such strenuous activity as sword fighting. 

“Again,” said the Inquisitor, unimpressed by Ezra’s sluggish form. Ezra gritted his teeth as he tightened his grip on the lightsaber’s hilt and moved through the stances again.

“Again.”

And Ezra did, going through the stance for the tenth time and tried to do better than the last but the frustration continued to grow and incapacitate his ability to do so.

“ _ Again _ .”

The well of frustration overflowed and something within Ezra snapped. He gave out a frustrated cry and turned around to point his deactivated lightsaber towards the Inquisitor accusingly.

“I am  _ trying _ my best you know!” Ezra yelled out, frustrated. He opened his mouth again, but any protest he had left died on the tip of his tongue when he locked onto the Inquisitor’s chilling eyes. Fear took hold of Ezra and he took a small step back, his arm dropping limply to his side in an attempt to look slightly more submissive than he did in his previous stance.

The Inquisitor took large strides towards him and Ezra had to use every ounce of strength he had left not to flinch away. “You  _ will _ watch your tongue,  _ boy _ ,” the Inquisitor said as he roughly took hold of Ezra’s chin. Ezra let out a soft whimper of pain at the grip’s strength. “And you  _ will _ obey orders without question and without fail.”

The Inquisitor let go of Ezra’s chin and Ezra knew this was not the end of his punishment. He hung his head low in shame. “Yes, Master.”

“I believe you are in need of a different type of lesson,” the Inquisitor said in a low, neutral voice as he took hold of Ezra's lightsaber that hung limply in his hands. 

“I understand, Master,” the boy said. He would take his punishment with acceptance, acknowledging that he was in the wrong. Although that did not mean the pain would be any less. 

By the time that it was over, Ezra plopped down onto his bed with a grunt. His bare back was red from the lashes he had to endure as punishment. Ezra, however, was grateful that the Inquisitor did not injure any of his limbs so that he could continue lightsaber training, but that did little to comfort the wounds he had received. Each cut stung and was most definitely inflamed from the assault, and there was little he could do other than to lie still.

_ Pain is good _ , he told himself,  _ pain is strength _ . It was something he did to help justify the punishments and to feel better. Ezra was the one out of line, after all, and knew he should be grateful that the Inquisitor was taking the time to teach him.

Sigh, Ezra carefully shifted in his bed so as to not further agitate his injuries, Ezra reached over for his datapad that laid on his bedside table and brought it to himself. Turning it on, he browsed the data files that the Inquisitor had uploaded regarding lightsaber forms. According to his master, there should be more information as well as tutorial holographic recordings recovered from the Jedi Archives.

Ezra’s eye was drawn to a file and stopped scrolling to further examine it. It was a holographic recording regarding a variant Form IV, Ataru, and was given by a Jedi of the name Skywalker. 

“ _ Keeping your saber moving is key to deflecting the fire from multiple adversaries. Fluid motion, one into the next, into the next, and so on. I’ve made some adjustments to the classic Form IV techniques that I think you’ll find work well against droids and other ranged attackers. Here, I’ll show you… _ ”

Ezra continued watching in awe as Skywalker walked through the stances.  _ This _ \- this is something he wanted to learn. The Form IV looked beautiful in all of its aggressiveness - the continuous movement of the blade, the acrobatics and the speed. And he wondered if he would ever be as fluid and as good as this Skywalker person. Surely one day he would become at least proficient in the Form - with enough practice that was. And with training plans formulating in his head, Ezra drifted to sleep.

Ezra had woken much earlier than usual and decided to make himself useful by going to the dojo. He ignored the tightness of his back as he did warmups before proceeding to walk through the stances of Form I. It would be an hour later when the Inquisitor walked in and if he was surprised to see Ezra there already, he did not show; however, he did offer a pleased smirk. 

Ezra immediately stopped and fluidly lowered himself onto his knee. “Master.”

“You've been busy,” The Inquisitor commented, noting the sweat that glistened on Ezra's skin and the trembling of his body with each breath he took. With a dismissive wave of a hand, Ezra got up from his kneeling position. “I can assume you had thought about your wrongdoings?”

“Yes, Master. I was out of line, and I should not have lashed out when instead I should have been grateful.”

“Hmm.” The Inquisitor inclined his head and motioned towards the centre of the dojo. Ezra did not need words to know what he was asking and made his way to the centre of the room and proceeded to walk through the basics with as much fluidity as possible. It was deemed good enough as his master did not stop him or make him redo the stances.

Instead, the Inquisitor left the dojo and returned with what looked like a probe droid. Ezra had barely any time to react, more out of surprise than lack of skill, and deflected a blast. This continued for the rest of the morning until Ezra’s back could no longer support further movements. The salt of sweat made each and every cut sting, and that combined with continuous shifting of back muscles, Ezra could barely take it anymore. However, this time he held his tongue.

“You have studied the datapad,” the Inquisitor noted at the end of the droid session, “more specifically, fourth Form.”

It did not surprise Ezra that his master picked up on his change in his technique, even if they were more clumsy than Skywalker’s movements. He had attempted to practice some of the techniques shown in the holographic recording before the Inquisitor showed up, and although he did not completely get the hang of it, what better to practice than on an actual droid?

“Is this a form you desire to specialise in?” The Inquisitor asked, before answering himself. “If so, we will begin going through the stances today. However, I will continue to teach you other forms. It is beneficial to not rely only on one, especially one that could prove to be weak against third Form in the long run of a battle.”

Ezra nodded in acceptance and then walked through the stances under the vigilance of the Inquisitor without a complaint of his aching back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Ezra gets a mission
> 
> Also, I made some art pieces for later chapters. Is that something of interest for you to see? I found it so cool when I found out you could actually place images inside of stories. (they're not great, just simple drawings for practice)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra goes on a mission and is finally one step closer to his revenge.
> 
> Warning!! Death of a child!

It would be three months before Ezra got a hang of the lightsaber and started practicing on Duelist Elite droids. The first time he had engaged in combat with a Duelist Elite droid, Ezra had strongly underestimated his opponent, being used to the probe-like droids that relied only on its blasters. These droids used vibrolades, and were quite proficient with them, too. 

A bead of sweat trickled down Ezra’s forehead as he locked blades with the droid, grunting under the strain. He gave a push of the blade and rolled away, and quickly lifted his blade to scratch the side of the droid. Ezra was disappointed when the droid seemed unaffected by the damage and continued to follow him. Ezra went defensive as the droid swung its blade in repeated blows. 

Focused on the blade, he did not notice a metal knee coming up and Ezra gasped in surprise when it made contact with his stomach. He stumbled back from the impact and coughed out blood. Glaring at the droid, he wiped his mouth somewhat clean with a quick stroke of his arm and went back into the offensive, deciding that his patience had run out. 

Ezra called upon his anger for strength, imagining that he was fighting Kanan, and went for a jab. His technique was clumsy and not the gracefulness and preciseness that was required with Makashi, but he pressed on, and every jab was met with a block and the frustration and anger continued to grow. 

So caught up in the battle and emotions, Ezra had failed to see the Inquisitor advance behind him. Shock filled him when he felt a hot plasma cut the underside of his left arm as if it were butter, nearly dropping the blade he held in his right arm, locked with the droid's blade. Wide eyes turned to see the red blade that belonged to no other than his master and it was only then that Ezra started to register the agonising pain of his muscles and skin burning at the lightsaber.

It wasn’t long before the Inquisitor pulled his blade away, although to Ezra it had felt hours rather than a mere second, and with grace and ease, the Inquisitor cut down the Duelist Elite droid that Ezra had been struggling with. Ezra’s legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed, dropping his deactivated lightsaber in favor to clutch his injured arm. Fortunately, due to the intense heat of the plasma blade, there was no bleeding, only intense burning. 

The Inquisitor deactivated his lightsaber and turned to look down at Ezra with a displeased look in his eyes. Ezra glared back with mistrust.

“Use your anger to give you strength, my apprentice, but do not let it blind you,” he chided. “Always be mindful of your surroundings. If I were your enemy, you would have had more than just a flesh wound - you would be  dead .”

Okay, Ezra supposed that was one way to teach someone to always be vigilant, but as effective as it may be, it definitely wasn’t his favourite teaching method. But he would not question his master - he knew what was best, and Ezra definitely did not like punishment enough to attempt it.

“Patch yourself with bacta and we will continue with Force training,” the Inquisitor said as he turned away from Ezra, pausing for a moment as he glanced over his shoulder. “And we will need to work on that…  _ pathetic _ … excuse of the second Form.”

Ezra hung his head in shame at the words. In the last three months he had begun to try harder to earn his master’s respect. It was not initially part of the plan to just ‘learn as much as you can and have revenge’, but Ezra could not deny that it felt good to be praised. The warmth that would spread through his chest and the boost of confidence was great - almost as great as knowing that he was growing stronger and more powerful. 

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Ezra made his way to his room which was closer than the med-centre. After receiving quite a few injuries from training, he started to keep bacta patches in his refresher. Whether that was allowed or not, Ezra did not know and nor was he going to ask. Carefully and awkwardly, he wrapped his arm with bacta patches, sighing in relief from the instant coolness of the gel and numbing of pain. 

Ezra leaned over the sink in exhaustion, the adrenaline finally leaving his bloodstream. Turning on the tap, he splashed cool water onto his face, allowing it to wash away any dirt, blood and sweat before looking up into the mirror. Over the past months, he regained weight and no longer had hollow cheeks or sunken eyes. In fact, he looked better than ever, having not only gained his weight back with proper nutrition, but also gaining muscle. 

His blue eyes dropped to the scars on his cheek which he was absentmindedly stroking with two fingers. They were given to him by his master during the time when he had been a prisoner - a fool. So naive was he back then, to think he could resist the Empire, the power, and even worse, to believe that Kanan or anyone else was going to come back for him. Eza glared at the much deserved scar before reluctantly shifting his gaze away.

Turning the faucet off, Ezra headed back to the dojo before he made the Inquisitor wait any longer. When he arrived, his master was meditating in the centre of the room, his eyes closed although Ezra was certain that he could sense his presence. The Inquisitor didn’t open his eyes until Ezra stood before him, and his lips tugged upwards into a smile, revealing his sharp teeth.

“Apprentice,” he said, “training will have to wait. I have a task for you. One that will test your… abilities.”

A task? This certainly piqued his interest. 

The Inquisitor stood up and dusted off the none-existent dirt off his uniform. “Come, we will discuss this in the debriefing room.”

They walked to the debriefing room in silence, Ezra lagging behind the Inquisitor’s long strides. Once inside with the doors closed, the Inquisitor turned on a holotable and two images appeared; one of a yellow Mirialan woman with diamond patterned tattoos beneath her eyes in a shape of an arrowhead; the second was that of a blue, male Rodian who could not be any older than Ezra. 

“On the planet, Lahn, the rebel Lurana is housing a Force-sensitive child - one that is a threat,” the Inquisitor said, staring intently at Ezra.

Ezra fought against the urge to squirm under the intense stare. “But… wouldn’t it better to capture the Rodian -” glancing quickly at the holoimage “- Teepo, and make him an agent of the Empire just as you had done to me?” The words came out slow. It was not easy to admit aloud that Ezra, the former rebel, had been broken by the Inquisitor and molded into an agent for the Empire. It felt almost… wrong, and shameful, but Ezra pushed those uncomfortable feelings aside.

“Have you forgotten so easily your previous lesson, my boy?” The tone was deadly and Ezra immediately stiffened. Again, he had questioned his master’s orders.

“N-No, Master,” he hastily stammered out. “It was just that Teepo was a child and I… I wanted to make sure I do this mission right.”

The Inquisitor regarded him a while longer before continuing. “Hmm. And what if I told you that this Rodian was going to be Kanan’s new Padawan?”

“ _ What? _ ” Ezra whispered, his eyes widening in disbelief. He couldn’t have heard that right. Kanan already had a new Padawan and only three months after abandoning Ezra? Something stirred inside Ezra, something dark and unpleasant. 

Jealousy. Hate. And a deep sorrow of betrayal from being replaced.

The dark emotions swelled, leaving Ezra feeling cold and empty. His first clenched and he glared at the Rodian’s flickering image, gritting his teeth so hard that it hurt. Caught up in his resentment, Ezra failed to see the pleased, yet sinister, smile on the Inquisitor’s lips.

“When do I leave?” Ezra asked in a hard tone, his eyes narrowing. 

“Now,” he replied. “I will accompany you aboard the ISD,  _ Slipknot _ , orbiting Lahn. From there, you will take a ship down to the surface.”

Ezra nodded in understanding. He glanced back at the holotable with determination. This would be his first step towards his well-deserved revenge. 

Ezra felt nervous as the shuttle he was on made its way to the hangar on  _ Slipknot _ . The large Imperial Star Destroyer loomed over the blue planet below, a constant reminder to the inhabitants of Lahn of the Empire’s power. The pilot landed the Lambda and Ezra quietly followed the Inquisitor aboard. 

“Welcome aboard, inquisitors,” Captain Kishniq greeted, his face twisting unpleasantly when the Inquisitor merely nodded his head acknowledgement before turning to his apprentice, effectively ignoring the captain. 

“Apprentice,” he said, “This will be the TIE that you will be taking to the surface below.” He waved his hand to the TIE fighter that stood nearby before dropping his arm and turned to look at Ezra. In a serious, low tone, he continued. “I expect you to carry out your mission without fail… unlike your last one.”

The reminder stung. Ezra looked away in shame as he remembered the Jedi he had to kill - only, he  _ didn’t _ kill the Jedi. He was too hesitant, too weak. And because of that, the Jedi killed himself out of self pity in order to ‘ _ help _ ’ Ezra. This time, however, it would be different. This time, it was personal.

“Yes, Master,” Ezra said, his eyes sliding back to face the Inquisitor with cold eyes. He would not fail. Ignoring the staring captain and stormtroopers, Ezra made his way to the TIE Advanced v1 and climbed into the cockpit. Over the past few months, alongside his physical and Force training, Ezra was also trained in flying. It was a useful skill to have, and Ezra enjoyed piloting immensely. And this would be the first time he would be flying alone.

After readying the fighter for flight, Ezra drew in a deep breath to ease his nerves before placing his hands onto the control yoke and guided the TIE out of the hanger and into the black of space. Ezra knew that this was more than just a test of his capabilities. It was a test of his loyalty. He knew, and he was certainly aware that the Inquisitor knew, that this line of TIE had hyperdrives, which means he could easily turn around and leave this system. But Ezra doubted he had that much leanway. 

If anything, he bet that this thing not only had a transponder, but a killswitch. And above all else, if Ezra did anything that made the Inquisitor doubt his loyalty, this TIE wouldn’t stand a chance against a squadron of them, much less the turbolasers of the ISD despite having basic shields. But Ezra wasn’t going to run away. Not when he could become more powerful under the tutelage of the Inquisitor and not when he had this opportunity of getting back at Kanan. This Padawan would never learn the ways of the Force, Ezra would make sure of it.

Drawing away from his thoughts, Ezra focused on his descent to the planet below. Lahn was made up of oceans, beaches and forests, and Ezra took a moment to admire the watery blues that reminded him of the fresh water oceans back on Lothal as he flew low. He then glanced away and looked at the navicomputer. According to the coordinates given to him, the village that the rebel and child were hiding in was located deep in the heart of the forest on one of the biggest islands, Ishmiik. 

The TIE whizzed over the treetops of the forest below as Ezra made his way across the planet at high speeds. He slowed down when he neared his destination before setting it down just two and a half kilometers away from the village’s outskirts, not wanting anyone to see or hear the TIE as that would surely give him away. The rebels had to be taken by surprise, or fear that they would escape; the mere thought of failing due to the rebels escaping sent a shiver down Ezra’s spine.

The humidity stuck to Ezra skin like a second skin as he trekked through the foliage, grunting in irritation. This type of weather was something he was not used to. It never even got this sticky on Lothal, even on the hottest of days. Still, he knew it would not be much longer before he reached the outskirts of the village as the dense trees began to thin. 

Ezra made his way up onto a ledge of a small cliffside to get a better view of the village. Crouching down, he ignored the dull ache in his injured arm as he took out the electrobinoculars that were attached to his belt and gazed through them. The village was larger than he had expected, housing forty buildings in total and were made of wood from the local trees. There did not seem to be many patrol troopers in the area, which Ezra guessed could be one of the reasons why the rebel chose this spot to hide low. 

After searching for ten minutes, Ezra smirked as he spotted a yellow Mirialan with black tattoos under her eyes. It was the rebel, Lurana. He couldn’t believe his luck at how easily he had found her. He watched her look around nervously before proceeding to walk up to a small hut on the far outskirts of town and entered inside hastily. Setting down his electrobinoculars, Ezra attached them to his belt and jumped off the ledge.

Sticking to the shadows, Ezra pulled the Force over himself in order to cloak his presence. It was something his master had taught him for stealth missions. He had already planned out the fastest and least visible route to Lurana’s hut when he scoured the area, and he silently made his way from shadow to shadow, building to building. The streets were surprisingly empty in this part of town, but he assumed it was because the market was at the opposite side where aliens and people flocked to. 

Flanking the target’s hut, he crouched below an open window and dared to take a peek inside. The insides looked cozy, being a small open room with a dirt ground and the walls had pretty but sparse decorations. In the centre was an open fire pit that had something cooking over it and nearby was a small wooden table where the Rodian sat and watched as the Mirialan searched through a drawer. 

Anger flared at the sight of the child. How dare the Rodian even consider taking Ezra’s former place as Kanan’s padawan. Ezra leered at the weak and pathetic looking child, baring his teeth. And for a moment he had let his guard down. Teepo stiffened in his seat and glanced over his shoulder to look at the window. Ezra’s breath hitched as he ducked just in time and silently scolded himself for his carelessness. He had to keep his cool or otherwise risk revealing himself too soon.

Fortunately, Teepo did not notice Ezra and turned his attention back to Lurana, and Ezra let out a silent sigh of relief. Instead of peeking over the window’s ledge, Ezra’s ears strained to catch any wisp of a conversation, slowing his breath and he kept still as possible. It would be a few minutes before the Rodian began talking. 

“Do you think the Empire knows about me?” Teepo asked nervously, fidgeting in his seat. Ezra’s lips tugged up into an amused smile upon hearing this. The Empire was  _ very _ well aware of the child and his Force-sensitivity, and all it took was a recording.

Lurana kept silent for a minute, and Ezra could hear that she stopped searching the drawer. “No,” she said eventually, “I don’t think so. It has been a few days since the incident… we’ll have to be more careful with that ability of yours - if anyone sees it, the Empire will take you away or worse…”

“I-I’m sorry,” Teepo apologised, “I just don’t know how to control my ability sometimes.”

“That’s okay, you did what you thought was right when you stopped that old man from falling from the off the roof. Your parents... they would have been proud," her voice was gentle. "And besides, you will learn soon enough how to control your ability.  We will leave for our shuttle after lunch. I finally got a secure transmission with the rebel command and they have given us coordinates for a rendezvous point.”

Ezra’s heart hammered upon hearing this information. How fortunate that he had gotten here just in the nick of time, as if the Force was finally on his side after all that he had been through. But what really got his attention was that Teepo would be  learning soon how to control his Force powers. And to Ezra, that could only mean one thing.  _ If only that Mirialan would mention the rebels they are meeting _ , he thought to himself as he continued to listen.

Silence was all Ezra was met with and Lurana never spoke more of the rebels, giving nothing away. He should have expected as much, but it was of little importance. Ezra would have the opportunity to ask about it later when he revealed himself to the rebels.

It had felt like forever by the time the duo had finished lunch and packed their bags, when in reality it had been only an hour. Ezra’s legs were uncomfortably numb from crouching, too afraid to chance being heard by moving on the dusty ground. Only when he heard the front door close did he move, wincing in pain as his sore muscles straightened, and silently made his way around the hut.

He followed the pair, treading behind in the shadows, and after a few turns and crosses, Ezra realised they were heading in the direction he had come from. He was certain he had not seen a ship on his trek towards the village and wondered if he had missed it or if it had been just out of sight. 

The dense foliage of the forest was a welcomed sight, the thick shrubs making it much easier to hide. He just had to be careful where he tread,, one misstep and his whole mission could be jeopardised. Although with some luck, any sound he made could be brushed off as wildlife. Occasionally, Lurana would look over her shoulder to see if anyone had followed and Ezra would freeze in his tracks, unseen.

By the two kilometer mark, the duo swayed off to the right much to Ezra’s relief. If they had gone ahead another five hundred meters, they would have been able to spot his TIE and Ezra would rather have the control of when to be revealed. 

It was only eight minutes later when an old light freighter emerged from the dense vegetation. The fuselage was angular that narrowed in front like a dagger, and near the back there were two and Ezra recognised it as a discontinued line of light freighters by Corellian Engineering Corporations nearly two decades ago. The dull grey paint was now peeling under the wear and tear, revealing the silver of metal beneath, and on the wings was worn out writing “ANGELS 5” in blue-grey paint. From what Ezra could tell, the freighter only had light armor plating and no visible laser cannons. All in all, the worn out freighter looked uninteresting - just as intended if wanting to avoid attracting the Empire.

Before they could lower the landing ramp and heat up the ship, readying for its takeoff, Ezra decided that it was time to reveal himself. He unmasked his presence as he walked out into the clearing and smiled when he saw the Rodian flinch, turning around so quickly that he nearly tripped over his own feet. Lurana followed Teepo’s gaze and stiffened, her hand moving cautiously towards her blaster resting on her hip.

“Who are you?” Her voice was steady but tense and she eyed Ezra’s black clothing wearily. It was the undersuit of a stormtrooper and he felt that she was aware of this. 

“Who I am is none of your concern,” Ezra replied casually. “I’m only here on a job.”

Her eyes narrowed and her fingers curled around the handle of her blaster, pulling it free from its holster. Ezra’s smirk grew wider at the useless weapon. “You’re an Imperial,” she said coldly and Ezra merely shrugged, brushing off her observation with little interest. “Teepo, get inside! I’ll deal with this.”

Teepo nodded eagerly in agreement and the ramp started lowering. “I don’t think so,” Ezra said, raising his hand out. Before he could call upon the Force, there was a warning and he narrowly dodged a blast. Turning his attention back to Lunara, he grabbed the hilt of his lightsaber and deflected incoming blasts with ease. The Mirialan gasped and her eyes widened in shock at the red blade before narrowing in recognition.

“Ah, so you  _ have _ heard of the inquisitors,” he smirked. She must have been warned by Kanan. “Then you must already know what I am about to do.”

With the Mirialan momentarily distracted, Ezra called on the Force and slammed Teepo into the hull of the ship. The boy let out a yelp of surprise before hitting the metal with a loud thud and falling unconsciously onto the ground. Lunara growled before shooting a few more times, all of which were futile attempts as Ezra effortlessly deflected each laser with a swing of his blade. 

“He’s just a child!” She yelled out, her face flushing with anger. “He had done nothing wrong!”

Ezra scoffed. He was the same age as Teepo, and he had never been treated fairly, nor was he ever shown mercy -  _ mercy was a lie _ . However, to say that the boy had done nothing wrong was the understatement of the year. This  _ Teepo _ was Kanan’s newest Padawan, Ezra’s replacement. It was salt in an open wound, an insult on Ezra’s very existence. But first, he had to get rid of any lingering doubt of the thought that Teepo was Kanan’s Padawan - it had still hurt too much to seem real.

“So you say,” he countered with an even voice that hid his deepest anger. “But tell me this,  _ Rebel _ … were you going to take this boy to Kanan Jarrus.”

For a split second, she was taken by complete surprise. Her jaws went slack and the corners of her eyes widened by a few millimetres, and in the Force, Ezra could feel the familiarity she felt with the name. Then, it was all gone and she stiffened, glaring at Ezra with a new intensity.

_ She knew Kanan _ , was all Ezra could think of. This led to the conclusion that the Inquisitor had been correct on his statement and there was no more doubt, only rage. Ezra had snapped.

Lunara felt the sudden shift and raised her blaster to fire. Before she could pull on the trigger, Ezra pushed out in the Force, forcing her back, and Lunara grunted in pain as her back collided against the trunk of a tree. She crumpled, unconscious, and her blaster skidded out of her hands and into the dense coverage of the forest. Ezra paid her no mind as he started to make his way to Teepo who had just started regaining consciousness, much like a predator approaching its helpless prey. 

His ears did not register when Teepo screamed and begged. All Ezra felt was pure rage at the reality of him being replaced as if abandoning him was not enough. It was at that moment that Ezra fully embraced the dark side, greedily lapping at the power it offered without a second thought. So lost in the dark and blind rage, Ezra tackled Teepo, pinning the child down as he brought his fist down, unaware of even hitting the Rodian.

It was not until a hysterical scream that made Ezra stop, it was a familiar scream and he looked down to see that he was staring into the face of none other than himself. But this self was a younger version, with hair uncut and wide, frightened eyes. It was the Ezra that was tortured months ago, but this time it was not the Inquisitor torturing him, but himself. 

Ezra recoiled from the boy, withdrawing his hands to see them covered in blood - _green_ blood. Humans did not have green blood, and he felt confused and hopeless until he looked down to see that it was no longer himself that laid there, but Teepo, motionless and unbreathing. Something uncomfortable rooted itself in the pit of his stomach at the sight, and scrambled back, his hands reaching out to find purchase but found none as he fell back hard onto his elbows. It took a moment to realise that this was real and not another bizarre vision or memory or whatever it was that Ezra saw.

The scream that he heard had not been from Ezra's past self, but from Lunara who had finally come and laid sobbing where she had previously collapsed. She had witness the last breath of Teepo, witness his life slipping away with every fist, witness him become barely recognisable. Ezra looked away from the disfigured corpse, refusing to allow himself to feel any remorse. This was what he had been asked to do, this was what he had _wanted_. It was just the tactic that he used to dispose of Teepo that had left a bitter taste in Ezra's mouth, but what was done, was done.

“YOU MONSTER!” Lunara screamed out, her fingers digging into the dirt and her shoulders trembled. Ezra breathed out a chuckle, more so to put himself at ease rather than laughing at the comment. 

Ezra got up from the ground, and hoped he did not look as shocked as he had felt moments ago. He took large strides towards the Mirialan, who was still sobbing on the ground. When he was within arms distance from her, Lurana pushed off the ground and tackled Ezra with a growl. He grunted as his back hit the rough ground below and was momentarily taken aback at the Mirialan’s strength. 

Lunara managed to grab a fist full of Ezra’s hair and pulled his head back to land a blow against his cheek. Ezra hissed in pain, and snarled as he grabbed Lurana’s arm and tightened his grip until she reluctantly let go of his hair. Once she had done so, he immediately pushed her off, kicking her in the process. 

Lunara grunted, her air knocked from her lungs when Ezra’s foot connected to her abdomen. She paused for a moment where she laid on the ground and Ezra followed her gaze to the blaster hidden beneath a bush, not too far from the tree she had initially collided with. She began to desperately crawl to the weapon and Ezra tackled her before her fingers could touch the handle. Twisting underneath, she fought to be released from his grip, fingernails scratching and digging into flesh. 

After a minute of struggle, Ezra finally managed to get her down on her belly and twisted her hands back. He panted as he managed to put binders that he carried next to his electrobinoculars on her wrist and then leaned back to catch his breath. Ezra had expected a fight, but he had not expected for it to drag on this long. He blamed being winded on the ridiculous heat and arm that was still healing.

Getting up to his feet, Ezra pulled the now tired out Mirialan to the tree and tied her to the trunk. Turning around, he scanned the clearing and his eyes landed on the mauled corpse and then to the freighter. He would have to do something with that and Ezra knew just the thing. He could simply blow it up, making it look like an accident and disintegrating Teepo’s corpse with it, however that would attract more attention than perhaps necessary. And besides, why blow it up when you could use it, it may come in handy.

He reached out with his open palm and summoned his lightsaber that laid next to the body, attaching it back to its rightful place on his hip. Glancing once more at the glaring Mirialan, Ezra made sure she was tied securely to the tree and double checked to ensure she had no comlink on her person. Satisfied, Ezra made his way into the thick of the forest. 

Within twenty minutes of treading over uneven ground, Ezra made it back to his TIE. Starting it up, he lifted off and made his way to the clearing whose coordinates he had saved. He landed in the small clearing with ease, feeling relieved to have a rather small fighter with the maneuverability that it had. Jumping out of the cockpit, he made his way to the freighter.

Ezra paused to look down at Teepo and with his initial shock gone, he felt nothing. Not even a hint of satisfaction now that Kanan’s Padawan. No. He felt…  _ empty _ . It was not enough and the thought left a bitter taste on Ezra’s tongue as he sneered at the corpse. Clenching his fist in disappointing anger, he roughly hauled Teepo up the ramp and dumped the body in a corner of the cargo bay. 

He proceeded his way to the cockpit and felt another wave of frustration as he glared at the screen; the freighter could only be turned on with hand recognition. Stomping out of the freighter, he made his way to Lurana who was still tied to the tree, glaring at the approaching boy. Ezra ignored her glare as he untied her and roughly pulled her up to her feet before dragging her back to the cockpit. She struggled, but Ezra did not falter as he tightened his grip. 

Once inside, he twisted her body so that her hand would be able to reach the screen and he pressed it down. Satisfied now that the freighter was unlocked, he took her back to the cargo bay and tied her onto one of the clips on the wall. 

“So you think you’ve won now, huh?” Lunara grounded out. “Killing an innocent child… one not much older than you.” Ezra remained silent as he blankly stared at her. The silence agitated her further as she spat on him. “You Imperial dog!”

He did not so much as flinch as he calmly wiped the saliva off him and turned to the cockpit, ignoring the sobbing woman. The comment had irked Ezra. All his life he had grown up to hate the Empire, and it had only grown after his parents and home were taken away. And now he was their  _ dog _ ; trained to take orders for the Empire.  _ As long as I get stronger _ , he thought to himself, perhaps to clear away any lingering shame. Pushing the thoughts aside, Ezra focused on the task at hand.

It took a moment to familiarise himself with the controls, but sure enough he was able to close the ramp and take to the air. Hovering above the clearing, Ezra locked onto the TIE below, attaching it to the belly of the freighter. It was a useful thing he had remembered from his time on the  _ Ghost _ ; there were a few large container pick-ups that had required the usage of the magnetized underbelly of the freighter.

Finally he was done and he leaned back into the chair, feeling slightly relaxed at the prospect that he had not failed his mission. When he entered the black of space, Ezra nearly jumped out of his seat. In the window against the darkness of space stared back two glowing, yellow eyes rimmed with red. It took him a moment to realise that the boy in the window was Ezra.

Gingerly, almost as if something would shatter otherwise, he brought his fingers up to his face and watched as the reflection mirrored the action. He supposed he should not have been surprised, he had fully embraced the dark side the moment he heard the truth, that Teepo was in fact Kanan’s new Padawan. Ezra had once inquired about his master’s yellow eyes, asking if it was an unusual genetic defect or something else. The Inquisitor had amused Ezra with an explanation, that only those who fully gave themselves away to the dark side do the eyes change. And knowing this, he allowed himself to feel a sense of pride - this was something that would please his master.

Drawing himself away from the reflection, Ezra watched as he neared _Slipknot_. 

“Unauthorised freighter, CEC HWK-290, state your business or be shot down on sight,” a stern voice sounded from the console’s comlink.

“This is Ezra Bridger, apprentice to Grand Inquisitor,” he replied. Perhaps he should have reached out beforehand about returning in another ship. “I will send the codes now.”

“Ah, my apologies,” the officer cleared his throat, most likely nervous having to deal with inquisitors. “Yes. The code checks out. You are cleared for docking in Bay 5.”

The commlink went silent and Ezra proceeded to Bay five, sending his TIE to land first before landing the freighter in an open space. Lowering the ramp, the Inquisitor and six stormtroopers were there to greet him, although the Inquisitor was the only one that boarded the freighter whereas the stormtroopers remained at attention outside.

Ezra suddenly felt nervous under his master’s intense stare, but forced himself not to fidget. And then he found himself relieved when the Inquisitor smiled - a pleased smile - and his shoulders relaxed slightly. 

“You did well, my apprentice,” he said approvingly as his eyes skimmed over the corpse and the now quiet rebel before returning to Ezra and his pleased smile grew wider. “Embraced the dark side finally, have we?” 

Ezra wasn’t sure if the comment was a praise or a taunt, and did not stop to think about it too hard. Instead, he took it as a statement - a fact. “Yes, Master.”

“Excellent," he said, turning to the stormtroopers. "Dispose of the corpse." The 'troopers nodded and two came forward to drag Teepo away. The Inquisitor then turned his attention to the glaring Mirialan. "And now…” he paused to reach down towards the rebel and harshly pulled Lurana to her feet and she let out a cry from the pain. “For the second part of your task, Apprentice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ezra had now finally surrendered himself completely to the dark side, killing his past self in the process.  
> Next chapter, we finally get a glimpse of the Ghost. 
> 
> Interesting fact: dark users only get yellow eyes when they completely fall into the dark side (hence why Palpatine, Dooku, Kylo Ren and quite possibly the Fifth Brother do not have yellow eyes all the time).


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the Rebel lead them to Kanan?
> 
> Warning! non-graphic torture, and of course, manipulation.

This was not what Ezra had in mind for the second part of his task. His stomach twisted uncomfortably and his throat tightened as he eyed the unwelcoming metal structure before him. It did bring a small sense of relief knowing that it would not be him sitting in the interrogation chair, but just seeing it was enough to bring up uncomfortable memories.

Ezra swallowed, hoping to obscure the lump in his throat but it did not seem to go away. 

“Is something the matter, Apprentice?” The Inquisitor asked from behind, and Ezra knew that he was not actually concerned with his well-being; it was a warning. Ezra swallowed again, and willed his heavy tongue to move.

“No, Master,” he said and straightened his shoulders. He took a tentative step forward and grabbed the glaring Mirialan from two stormtroopers; the Inquisitor had wanted Ezra to be the one to strap her into the chair. It was a sick joke, but Ezra should not had expected anything else - there was no fairness, no mercy after all in the glare of the Empire. 

Lurana did not make Ezra’s job easy. She struggled with every step, twisting and turning as he tried to bind her into the chair. He grew frustrated, but after a few minutes of struggle, he had managed to lock the metal straps in place. Ezra stepped back from his handiwork, and made room for the Inquisitor to proceed with interrogation. It was not something he had necessarily wanted to see, but knew it was imminent if he were to be with the Empire. 

The Inquisitor chuckled and Ezra looked at him, brows furrowed. “No, my boy,” he said, openly amused. “ _ You _ will be retrieving the information from the Rebel.”

Ezra’s stomach dropped. The lump in his throat grew and Ezra felt panic rise from the sudden difficulty to breath. It was one thing to strap someone to the chair he had come to hate; one thing to watch idly by as someone, even an enemy, was tortured, but it was a whole different matter to  _ do _ to the torturing himself. He flinched when his master placed a tight grip on his shoulder, one that reminded him of the time he faced the old Jedi on that backwater world. 

“I… I don’t think I can – I’m not ready,” Ezra stammered. He knew it was somewhat silly. Not too long ago, he had brutally murdered a child who had no means of defending himself in a fit of blind rage and not felt a single shred of remorse (at least not to his acknowledgement). And now, with his mind clear, torturing an enemy felt wrong. Ezra could have scoffed at that logic.

“And why not?” The Inquisitor asked in a dangerously low voice, his grip tightening slightly making Ezra wince. 

It was a good question, one that Ezra had asked himself and one that he did not have a proper answer for. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he finally came up with some sort of explanation. “I… I don’t feel comfortable…  _ torturing _ ,” the word felt heavy on his tongue, “someone I do not have any qualms with…”

His response was weak, and he knew it. The Inquisitor, much to his surprise, relaxed his grip although did not let go of Ezra’s shoulder. 

“You seem to forget that it was this rebel that was going to bring that child to Jarrus,” the Inquisitor said in a hushed tone, leaning in close to Ezra's ear so that it was only Ezra who could hear them. “She was playing a role in replacing you. And she is the key for the coordinates that will lead us to the rebels, and quite possibly… _Jarrus_.”

The words sank in and Ezra could not open his mouth to speak if he wanted to. The Inquisitor was right -  _ of course he was _ . This Rebel had done wrong to Ezra by personally bringing Teepo into Kanan’s life, by making Teepo Kanan’s new Padawan. And more importantly, this Rebel could lead him to Kanan.

When Ezra remained silent for too long, the Inquisitor spoke up again, his voice hardening. “Unless, my apprentice, you want to join her in this session?”

The suggestion sent a cold shock through Ezra’s body and he stilled, every muscle stiffening at the memories. It took a few seconds, but Ezra managed to compose himself, willing himself to relax and forced the memories out of his mind. He never wanted to be back in that chair again.

“No, Master,” he gruffly said, clearing his dry throat. “It will be done; your bidding is my command.”

“Good, my boy,” the Inquisitor said, pleased that Ezra remembered his place. He removed his hand from the boy’s shoulder and tucked it behind his back. “Proceed.”

Ezra swallowed as he took a tentative step forward, straightening his shoulders to appear larger and menacing, which was not very effective considering he was short and young. Lurana glared at him, weariness settled deep within the lines of her face. Her eyes then flickered to the Inquisitor.

“So you’re making a  _ child _ do the dirty work for you?” She taunted. Ezra’s brows twitched at being referred to as a child. He had not been a child since he was seven.

The Inquisitor chuckled. “No, I am merely training the boy,” was the only response he offered, his thin lips curling back into a sinister smile that exposed the sharp teeth below. 

Ezra now stood in front of Lurana, ignoring the comment and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. He was nervous, there was no denying that. “You will tell me where the rebels are,” Ezra demanded, and silently cursed at how his voice wavered. 

Lurana’s lips pulled back into a tight line, unimpressed, and refused to speak. Ezra’s anger spiked. If the rebel was not going to take the interrogation seriously just because he was fifteen, then perhaps it was time to show how serious he was. Squashing down his nervousness and allowing anger and hate to replace its void, Ezra pulled the electrodes into place with the Force. He felt satisfied when he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes.

“Where are the rebels,” he demanded for the second time. Again, he was met with nothing but a glare and Ezra grabbed the remote, nearly dropping it in the process, and turned the dial. Blue electricity rained down from the electrodes and penetrated into the Mirialan, who screamed and jolted under the burning sensation of pain. Ezra could not help but to feel slight fascination.

It was a completely different experience to be on the other side of the torturing. And Ezra was unsure whether to feel disturbed or not on how easy this had felt. With only a mere turn of a dial, the Rebel would be in pain, pain caused by him. It was all necessary for information, he told himself. Information vital to his revenge. But he knew that was not why this felt easy. 

No. It was the surge of power and control.

After forty seconds, Ezra believed that the rebel had enough and cut off the electricity. Lurana panted, her chest heaving as she attempted to catch her breath and her head hung limply. Feeling more confident, Ezra moved up closer and roughly grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“ _ Where are the rebels _ ,” he strained every syllable, hopefully to coax her to be more cooperative knowing that he was serious. Lurana just huffed out a laugh before spitting him in the face. Ezra snarled. This was a second time she had done this barbaric act on him. He angrily wiped away at his face with the back of his hand and then turned the dial to a higher intensity. 

He smirked in satisfaction watching her wither in pain, screaming; she should not have disrespected him like that. And as he watched, Ezra forgot why he ever hesitated at this task to begin with. He still did not necessarily liked the idea of torture, but he did admire the sense of power that came with it. Now if only the stubborn Rebel would give in.

By the fourth time of trying and no answer, Ezra grew frustrated. He was about to turn the dial again when a touch on his shoulder stopped him. His heart dropped at the touch, and Ezra wondered if he had failed. Turning around, he gave the Inquisitor a nervous questioning look.

“You have already tried electricity a few times and failed,” the Inquisitor said and Ezra’s palms started to sweat. “Perhaps using a different technique.”

Ezra glanced over to the syringes neatly placed on a tray table conveniently next to the interrogation chair. He had no clue what any of them were or what their side effects were - although he doubted any of them were meant to be pleasant. Nervous from his lack of knowledge of the syringes, Ezra decided to skip them and use something he was more familiar with - the Force.

Remembering his training, Ezra reached out with his hand, hovering it over Lurana’s face and called upon the Force. Almost immediately he felt himself connected to the Mirialan’s mind, which he was surprised to find the mind layered and organised similarly to a human’s, and started forcing his way through her mental barriers. He could hear her discomfort in the far back of his mind as he broke through the initial mind barrier and started working on breaking the second. Her defences were impressive, but not impressive enough.

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and over his eyelids, but he paid it no mind as he continued to focus. Lurana started to convulse in the chair, attempting to pull away, but found that the connection with her mind would not break. It only made Ezra push harder, and he could start feeling the strain of using the Force in this manner. He only had practised mind probing a few times before on stormtroopers, but never to this extent. 

Before he could dig deeper, Lurana finally gave in, crumbling under the intense pain. “STOP!” She shrieked out, her voice shrill. “Please! N-No more! I’ll tell you!” She sobbed out, tears running freely down her cheeks, “I’ll tell you… just no more…”

Ezra pulled away from her mind and felt his body’s exhaustion for the first time. He knew it was straining, but had not fully realised just how straining, but he ignored his aching, tired muscles that felt as if he ran a marathon and stood up straighter. 

Her shame wrapped around Ezra heavily in the Force, leaving a bad aftertaste on the tip of his tongue, as she told them the coordinates of the rendezvous point. “We were supposed to meet a Jedi there,” she hiccuped, her tears had finally dried out, but her lips still trembled as she spoke. Ezra’s breath hitched at the mention of a Jedi -  _ Kanan _ . “But that is all the information I have - I don’t know anything else… they take great care with such things…”

Her words rang true, Ezra could feel it in the Force - perhaps more clearly due to the remnants of the connection. Nonetheless, taking all the necessary precautions, they checked out the coordinates and indeed they were real.

The Inquisitor turned to face Ezra and placed his hand onto Ezra’s shoulders. He didn’t flinch underneath the unexpectedly warm touch, and immediately knew his master was proud. His chest puffed out in pride as he raised his chin to look into the yellow and black orbs.

“See, my boy,” the Inquisitor said, his usual smile adorning his face. “That wasn’t so difficult, now was it?”

“No, Master,” Ezra replied, forming a small smile of his own. “It wasn’t.”

The Inquisitor turned his attention to the two stormtroopers that stood by the door. “Take the prisoner away.”

Ezra watched as they dragged the worn out Lurana. He had thought that she would be executed, and instead they were bringing her a cell. As if sensing the boy’s confusion, the Inquisitor let out a chuckle.

“You will have the honours later,” he said, “first, I must see if she was indeed right with where the rebels are at. Only then, when the rebel had indeed used up her use, will I contact you and upon my orders you will execute the rebel.”

Ezra nodded his head before frowning. “Wait, I am not going with you?” Rage started to bubble beneath his skin. This was his chance to have his revenge against his so-called family, against Kanan. “But-”

“There is  _ no _ room for disagreement,” The Inquisitor said in a low voice, and Ezra quieted down, unsettled by the warning tone. “You are not ready to face Kanan. But fear not, my apprentice, you will have your chance in due time - when you are ready.”

Ezra hung his head low, not able to bring himself to look his master in the eyes. He did not know how long before his master would deem him to be ready, but knew he could do nothing more than to be patient - something he lacked. “Yes, Master… I understand.”

“Good,” his tone was lighter now, holding a hint of satisfaction. “Then I will depart immediately.”

____

Kanan vaguely stared out into the distance as he stood at the end of the landing ramp of the  _ Ghost _ and into the black of space, dotted with asteroids and distant stars. Even after almost four months, he still felt empty from the loss of his Padawan, Ezra. The road to recovery had so far been a bumpy one, with still many sleepless nights of tears and guilt. 

In those moments of weakness, laying in his bed staring at the metal underside of the bunk bed above him, Kanan would secretly, longingly reach out to the Force. Of course, the tugs on the broken bond would lead to nowhere; the ends having been severed on Stygeon Prime. Still, Kanan could only hope, even if it seemed desperate and mad, to reach out to Ezra. The other members of the crew did not know of this, of course. Kanan felt like it would only give false hope, like opening a healing wound.

Even now, as he stared out into space, Kanan reached out with invisible hands, hoping to feel something, and then pulled back when he was met with nothingness.

Heaving a sigh, Kana ran a hand through his pulled back hair and averted his eyes to Sabine and Zeb who were organising crates. Chopper was there, but was not being much of a help, rather favoring picking up fights with the Lasat. Kanan did not bother to attempt to decipher what the two were bickering about, but allowed a small twitch of the lips. The  _ Ghost _ was finally becoming lively again, even if the moments were rare and far in between.

The crates contained useful resources such as E-11 blasters, ion and concussion grenades, all things they had stolen from the Empire a few days ago. They were not for them, of course. And this time, they were not for Vizago either. They were for the Rebellion.

After the loss of Ezra and a few missions, Hera had confessed that they were just a cell, part of something much bigger.  _ This _ was something that was not well digested by Kanan, and was still not something he was happy about. He did not want to be part of another war, not after what happened in the last one. The Clone Wars had left too many scars, and the Empire already added more than he wished to have. 

Now, they were on yet another task for this  _ Rebellion _ , given - or rather ordered - by Jun Sato, Commander of the Phoenix Squadron. Other than bringing back the crates of weapons to the command ship, they were also tasked to bring back a special someone. A Force-sensitive child by the name of Teepo. 

Teepo was a Rodian, just fourteen years of age, discovered by Lurana on her travels in search of allies. His parents were killed in an explosion in some village on the planet that Kanan had not heard in a long time - Lahn. Now Lurana was returning with the Force-sensitive in tow, and it was up to the  _ Ghost _ , who was still invisible under the surveillance of the Empire, to carry Teepo safely until a rebel base could be established.

Kanan hoped that the kid and the Rebellion did not expect him to teach Teepo in the ways of the Force. Ezra was his first Padawan, and would be his last. The loss was still too unbearable, and he already established that it was perhaps something he would never fully recover from. He just hoped that Teepo would understand, although given the age and situation, it might be a bit of a downer for the kid. Hopefully, and perhaps the only positive thing about this Rebellion, was the possibility of other Order 66 survivors and thus, a teacher that would be willing to take on Teepo as an apprentice.

The thoughts of teaching and Padawans made Kanan’s heart sink again. His mind would always circle and find its way back to Ezra, stirring the guilt deep within. Before he could get lost in the endless stream of remorse, he felt a light, warm touch and peered down to see Hera standing by his side, looking at him with her large, loving green eyes. Hera, despite being Non-Force-sensitive, always knew when to come and comfort Kanan, as if she could sense his dilemma.

“How are you holding, Love?” Hera asked, her voice gentle and it soothed over Kanan’s nerves. He gave a small smile as he embraced her side with one arm, pulling her closer.

“Better than ever,” although his voice did not make the statement very convincing. Still, it did hold some truth if he looked at how he was several months in comparison to him today. Kanan had stopped seeking out the bottle after finally coming to terms with the loss of their son - his Padawan - and started to eat more than just a few bites.

“Hmm,” Hera hummed and leaned her head onto Kanan. “We’ll get there,” she said in understanding, she was also still struggling with coping with the loss of Ezra. “I know we will.”

They stood there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just enjoying one another's presence. It was not often that they could do this with the Empire on their tails and all. And speaking of such things…

“Do you think Lurana got into trouble with the Empire?” Hera finally asked as she continued to stare at Zeb, Sabine, and Chopper keeping themselves busy in the distance.

“Hard to say,” he replied. “The transmission was secure, so I doubt the Empire could have heard anything… Maybe she and Teepo are just running late - a fuel stop or something.”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, not completely convinced. “Maybe.”

Lurana and Teepo  _ were _ four hours behind their arrival time - a bit too long for just a refuel. And Kanan could not help but feel as if something had happened, something terrible, but he did not want to think of such a possibility. “We should probably contact them soon. You know, to see what’s up?”

“Yeah, we should,” Hera agreed and just then, as if heard being called, a HWK-290 called  _ Angels-5 _ entered the atmosphere and drew near to a clearing not too far from where the crates were. Kanan let go of Hera and stepped forward.

“That’s Lurana’s ship,” he noted. “I guess they did not have any trouble after all.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled at Hera. “Should we go and greet them?”

The Twi’lek nodded her head in agreement and they started their approach to the landing ship. Something stirred within Kanan and alarm bells started to go off. Slowly, his footsteps began to falter as he drew to a halt. Something was off.

There was a presence on that ship, one that felt cold… and familiar.

Kanan’s eyes widened and his muscles stiffened as it all clicked into place. “Guys! Get back, it’s a trap!” He yelled out, immediately reaching out for his lightsaber attached to his belt.

The ramp of the light freighter opened and stormtroopers ran out, firing their blasters at the Spectres. Sabine shot back as she leaped for cover behind one of the crates and Hera and Zeb took cover nearby, firing when having the chance. Kanan deflected any laser bolt coming his way without much thought as his eyes scanned for the presence he felt.

His breath hitched when he saw him, standing like a tall shadow at the top of the ramp, overlooking the battle with mild interest. The Inquisitor. Kanan’s eyes narrowed as he felt his emotion bubble up inside him, and his lips drew back into a snarl when their eyes locked, teal against yellow. The Inquisitor smirked, silently taunting Kanan.

The Pau’an started to walk towards the Jedi, each step taken with the grace of a predator and Kanan raised his lightsaber, ready to defend. All stormtroopers had stopped aiming towards Kanan as soon as the Inquisitor made his target clear, and instead focused solely on the non-Jedi members of the  _ Ghost _ . The force was overwhelming and they had to deal with this quickly and leave before the Imperials had a chance to overrun them.

“Ah, if it isn’t the Jedi Knight, Kanan Jarrus,” the Inquisitor said when he came to a halt two metres away. “Only, you aren’t a Jedi Knight, now are you?”

Kanan’s grip tightened before relaxing. He would not allow the Inquisitor, this monster, bait him. He had already accepted that he had never completed his training, but also knew that did not make him incapable of holding his own.

“Because if you  _ were _ at least a Jedi Knight, then perhaps your Padawan wouldn’t be  _ dead _ .”

_ That’s it _ . Kanan leaped forward, arching his blade into a wide overhead slash, forgetting his Jedi training of clearing the mind of one's emotions.  The Inquisitor’s lip curled up, flashing his teeth, knowing that he had hit a nerve and stepped aside to avoid the blade’s trajectory. Kanan continued to thrust and slash his sword, all movements sloppy under his anger.

“Still mourning your Padawan, I see,” the Inquisitor chuckled, blocking each wave of the sword almost lazily. “Your form is even sloppier than the last time.”

The Inquisitor then parried, locking blades and started pushing Kanan back with his weight. Panic rose as Kanan started to lose his footing, and he quickly took evasive action after giving a quick push of the blade - just enough to escape. He felt momentary relief when the Inquisitor did not immediately follow after him, and he took the moment to catch his breath. The Inquisitor was right, of course. Kanan  _ was _ sloppier than before. 

After losing Ezra, he had been too caught up in his own grief that he had neglected keeping up with his lightsaber forms. Just glimpsing at his lightsaber had reminded him of the boy and what was all meant to be but was lost. Instead, he became more reliant on his DL-18 blaster pistol on their ops, just like he had done before he met Ezra, but such weapon would prove useless against a Force-wielder.

The relief was short-lived when the Inquisitor started to twirl his double-bladed lightsaber and Kanan tensed, raising his lightsaber in defense. He was momentarily caught off guard when the Inquisitor threw his lightsaber at such a short distance and raised his saber to deflect it when all of a sudden Kanan was pushed back by a hard shove. Kanan grunted when he hit the ground with a thud, his hands scraping against the uneven ground as he attempted to awkwardly soften his fall.

“First I killed the Padawan,” the Inquisitor said and paused to chuckle as if it was some sick private joke, “And now… now I will kill the _Master_.”

Kanan’s heart leaped into his throat as he hastily reached out for his lightsaber that had fallen out of his hand when he attempted to break his fall. He did not have enough time to get up to his feet and braced himself for the worst.

“Kanan!” He heard Sabine call out, her voice was not panicked and instead had a tone that Kanan instantly recognised. Instead of attempting to scramble up or igniting his blade, Kanan hastily rolled out of the way as a flash detonator exploded nearby. Using this temporary coverage, Kanan joined up with the rest of the Spectres as they ran for the now-ready to fly  _ Ghost _ . Apparently Chopper had left the scene earlier and started the take off sequence, warming up the engines; finally deciding to be useful for once.

They evaded the poorly aimed blasts as they ran and as they made their way up the ramp, a warning in the Force sent Kanan turning around and raising his now ignited saber to deflect incoming red blades. He did not wait to see the Inquisitor call the blade back to him as Kanan hastily made his way inside the  _ Ghost _ . Nor did he wait to see the Inquisitor’s smirk as he watched the  _ Ghost _ leave the asteroid’s surface.

It was only when Kanan made it to the cockpit did he collapse in his chair with a sigh of relief. The sight of the blue-white tunnel of hyperspace was a welcoming one after their encounter with the Inquisitor and a squadron of bucketheads, and he allowed his muscles to relax.

“That was a close one,” he murmured aloud and stole a glance at the equally winded Spectres. 

Hera pulled her lips back into a thin line, her eyebrows furrowing in worry. “If they had Lurana’s ship, then that could only mean one thing…”

“Yeah,” Sabine breathed out, resting her helmet in one arm as she moved her bangs away from her eyes with her free hand. “They’re dead…”

Hera heaved a sigh. “We’ll have to tell Commander Sato that Lurana and Teepo did not make it… nor the supplies that we were forced to leave behind in our rushed escape.” She then turned to Kanan and placed a gentle hand on him, “Are you okay, Love?”

Kanan averted his eyes before meeting her concerned green eyes. “Yeah,” he said but they both knew he was lying. He had not expected seeing the Inquisitor this soon, and the visit had shook him to the core. The murderer of Ezra Bridger, his Padawan and someone he had come to think as a son. He had wanted to do nothing more than go against the Jedi Code and harm -  _ kill _ \- the Inquisitor for what he had done. But he wasn’t ready, he knew this now. Kanan had too much conflict within him, too unfocused to even train.

He would have to change that. Next time, he would be more prepared. Kanan turned his attention to the blue and white of hyperspace and formulated his training regime.

______

“Should we go after them, sir?” Commander Kernix asked as he saw the  _ Ghost _ take off.

“No, let them go,” the Inquisitor said as he watched the  _ Ghost _ grow smaller and smaller before it made its jump into hyperspace. His lips curled up into a sinister smile as he thought of Kanan.  _ Just wait until you meet your “dead” padawan, Kanan Jarrus… I will enjoy watching your world crumble around you. _

He lifted his wristlink up towards his lips. “Ezra, execute the prisoner.”

"Yes Master."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will start to pick up from here, or at least get more interesting in my point of view :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra gets his final test

It would be many months of rigorous training before Ezra was given his final test. The past nine months had been almost brutal to the point of breaking, but the promise of power and revenge motivated him to pull through. And after all the hard work, the results had thus far been satisfying. Ezra had become proficient in Form IV, using it as his preferred lightsaber form, although he could switch to other forms with ease.

Ezra trained almost every day, usually alternating between Force and physical training. In his down time, he would spend his time either reading up on information (typically on the Force and Jedi) that was given by the Inquisitor or hanging out with some of the Purge troopers he trained with at the mess hall. They were older than him and had rough personalities, but Krix and Don were alright to be around. It was an amusing thought to Ezra to hang out with Imperials. Before, he would have never believed that there were normal people behind the helmets. Before, the soldiers were just the face of the Empire, and now Ezra knew their names and for some, even their backstories - where they were from, and some would even bashfully admit of having a loved one waiting for them back home.  It had been an odd thing for Ezra to digest at first, but he had grown used to it and now even felt embarrassed for his naivety. 

Now he was in the dojo training with Krix, whose weapon of choice was an electrohammer, when the Inquisitor entered the room with his hands neatly tucked behind his back. Spotting his master from the corner of his eyes, Ezra lowered his lightsaber and Krix did the same with his electrohammer, Ezra kneeling whereas Krix merely nodded at his superior.

“Master,” Ezra greeted, ignoring the sweat dripping into his eyes. Inquisitor motioned for him to stand.

“Leave,” he said to Krix, who saluted and marched out of the dojo, smirking at Ezra on the way out. The Inquisitor turned his attention back to his apprentice. “You have grown strong quickly over the past year, my apprentice,” he gave a pleased smile. “I have a mission for you - a test, if you will.”

_ A mission _ \- that certainly caught Ezra’s attention. He had not been on one since he was sent after the rebel and Kanan’s-would-be-Padawan, ending both of their lives. It was a necessary step, of course. Revenge, as told by the Inquisitor, required multiple steps and sacrifices in order to be achieved, ones without hesitance or mercy. 

Ezra smiled, allowing his excitement to be visible. A change in his routine would be a welcomed one. “Come, Apprentice,” the Inquisitor said and turned to leave the dojo, Ezra falling one step behind him. 

They made their way in silence to the airlock where a ship awaited them. During their walk, Ezra would occasionally send curious glances to his master in hopes to fish some information, but the Inquisitor remained silent, keeping his focus only ahead. He supposed he would just have to be patient. The Inquisitor would reveal the details of the mission sooner or later.

And later, the Inquisitor did indeed decide to share the details of the mission as the ship entered hyperspace. 

“Our mission is to silence a senator,”

Ezra looked over in surprise. “A senator?” He echoed. He did not realise that inquisitors also went after politicians. 

“Yes, it is an unusual task,” said the Inquisitor with a smirk, as if reading Ezra’s thoughts. “However, it is one suitable for you.”

Ezra did not know what the Inquisitor meant with the mission being suitable for him. Perhaps the fact that it would be easy, but that was slightly insulting on his behalf. Ezra had trained hard and had gotten strong over the year, he was definitely not as weak and helpless as the boy in the corridors of Stygeon Prime or the one from that bunker underground facing the runaway Jedi. Perhaps the test was not strength and rather it was something else.

He chose not to dwell too long on such thoughts. It did not matter what he thought, not really. Even if he had reservations, Ezra's job was to follow orders, not question them. Questioning orders only brought on suffering, and although he had grown more tolerant to pain, it did not make it any less unpleasant or shameful.

Still, he could not help but feel curious and intrigued about the mission and as if being able to sense it, the Inquisitor said, “The target is Irek Cohl, senator of the planet Carmonia in the Outer Rim. He had been secretly plotting treason against the Emperor, and you are being sent to deal with such corruption and treachery.”

What types of acts of treason the Inquisitor did not say. Ezra assumed it was most likely dealing with the black market for extra profit behind closed doors or perhaps a slightly more treasonous act: insurgency. That would certainly put you on the list. Although he was slightly surprised that they did not go for public execution. That would be the best method of spreading fear and squashing any other insurgents, especially within the senate. But perhaps the world of politics was more complicated than Ezra could possibly ever hoped to understand.

The Inquisitor took out a small round holoprojector from his pocket and turned it on. A three-dimensional image of a grand house flickered to life and Ezra had to blink a few times to take in the sheer impressiveness of the building. It was elaborately decorated, carvings swirling into images around the large windows on each one of the three floors. This was definitely a building of someone who liked to show off their wealth and power.  _ Typical politicians _ , Ezra thought, thinking back at how comfortable the politicians were on Lothal while the people -  _ how Ezra _ \- had suffered.

“I am assuming the building will be heavily guarded?” He asked as he studied the projection in front of him.

“Yes,” and red dots appeared of the last known positions of guards appeared on the image. “This senator is particularly paranoid, and all for the right reasons, of course. There are a total of forty guards, all of which had training from certain dojos on Coruscant.”

Ezra hummed as he nodded in understanding before his brows furrowed in slight confusion as he processed a particular information. “Certain dojos?”

“There was a similar incident a few years back where rebels brainwashed bodyguards. The ISB is watching a few dojos in which some of these bodyguards were trained at. It is the same reused plot, only this time, a senator is involved with such treachery.”

“Doesn’t seem very smart to reuse the same failed plan,” Ezra murmured, and they fell into a comfortable silence. The boy turned to gaze out the viewport as the Inquisitor continued to silently study the layout of the mansion. It was odd to think that over the past year he had become accustomed to the Inquisitor’s presence, even going as far as enjoying it at times. When in a good mood, his master would be more tolerable to Ezra’s mistakes, fixing them with stern words rather than physical retaliation. The Inquisitor was also knowledgeable and would often at times share that knowledge with Ezra such as with the deep detailed documents regarding lightsaber forms.

When they drew nearer to their destination, Ezra decided to study the layout of the mansion. It would be wise to know his way around, especially considering this was a test and relying on his master would not look good. Sooner than later, Ezra drew away from the holoprojection as the shuttle entered realspace again and the pilot started the descent into Carmonia’s dark atmosphere. 

It nearly looked as if it was night, but according to the local time, it was only late afternoon. The dark clouds shrouded the planet, hammering the surface with heavy rain and lightning. Ezra listened to the spitter-spatter of rain on the shuttle’s glass, taking a private moment to enjoy the sound. He had not heard rain for over a year being in a fortress underwater and all, and he allowed it to soothe his nerves. 

The ship landed almost two kilometers away from the mansion in an open grass field. The lack of sun and the pounding rain would give the dark grey ship enough coverage to not be spotted by anyone. Ezra and the Inquisitor proceeded to walk down the ramp and Ezra felt immediately grateful for the waterproof boots. The surrounding grasslands had turned into a marshland, flooded by all the water from the rain. 

Looking up, Ezra could barely make out the flickering lights that he knew belonged to the shadowy mansion in the distance. The senator had decided to live next to the seaside, just upon the cliffs, instead of in the nearby capital city like most senators would. It was weird that this senator was a rebel when it appeared as if he only cared for himself, but then again, looks could be deceiving. 

They started their trek uphill, and Ezra was immediately soaked by the rain. His clothes felt heavy and clung to his skin, but he ignored the uncomfortable heaviness as he trudged through the water and mud. As they drew closer, he could now make out four shadowy figures by the entrance of the mansion and Ezra unclipped his lightsaber, his thumb hovering ready over the ignition button. 

Just as the human guards noticed their presence and reached towards their blasters, Ezra pulled his arm back before swinging it forward, throwing his lightsaber in a practiced arch towards the guards. Shocked, two of the guards in the path of the blade trajectory did not jump in time and their bodies crumpled to the ground. The remaining guards, horrified at their colleagues’ deaths, pulled on the trigger of their blaster pistols. Ezra’s fingers curled around his lightsaber’s hilt just in time to redirect the blasts back towards their source.

Ezra allowed his posture to relax as he lowered his blade. It felt exhilarating to finally put his skills to use, especially the lightsaber throw. Now, with the guards in front of the door gone, the real work began. The tall double-doors opened up into a large foyer with a grand centre staircase. The high ceiling carried a sizable chandelier that added a soft glow to the red and gold carpets and décor. Ezra could not help but to roll his eyes at the sight of such grandeur.

“Hey, you!” a voice called out from atop the staircase, it was a human guard accompanied by another two guards. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Ezra feigned an aghast look. “What? Really? I must have the wrong address then.” The guards looked skeptical but hesitated enough for him to raise his arm out without interruptions. Their eyes widened as their guns clattered to the ground, raising their hands to the invisible grip around their necks as they were lifted from the floor. The gurgling sounds sent an odd wave of discomfort through Ezra, and he gritted his teeth. He then thrusted his hand forward, sending a shockwave through the Force and the guards flew back, breaking through the window. 

“Testing every ability of yours I see,” the Inquisitor commented, amused, and Ezra jumped at the voice. He nearly forgot that his master tagged along; the Inquisitor had been uncharacteristically quiet.

“Not joining the fight?” Ezra asked as he turned to face his master. His master smirked and his eyes gleamed as they peered at Ezra with what seemed to be triumph or perhaps just amusement.

“No,” he answered and looked behind Ezra at ten approaching guards. The shattered glass must have alerted everyone of their presence. “I am here to merely observe.”

With the foyer being so open, Ezra had no problem dealing with the newcomers. It was later in the long hallways, although not too narrow, that he had a slightly more difficult time. He was happy that he remembered the layout of the mansion as every twist and turn started to look the same with the similar decorations of red and gold, and with every twist and turn, Ezra would run into more guards. The guards, of course, knew the place better than the boy and they all knew where he was heading to.

The last handful of guards were more challenging. This could be due to the possibility of the guards being more skilled than the others, being closer to their boss, or perhaps more organised given that they had more time to prepare, or it could just be Ezra finally tiring out after fighting for so long but he doubted that was the case. He was sweating, though masked by still being slightly wet from outside, Ezra had practiced many hours to gain good stamina. The hallways, however, did not make the fighting easy he would have to admit than the space he was used to when he practiced in back in the dojo.

Ezra’s eyes shifted over the guards, examining them. They had somehow surrounded him and the Inquisitor, coming out from rooms behind them as they had walked by. Most of them were human, but some were non-human and Ezra recognised them as Klatooinian - a humanoid with green-brown skin, prominent brows and three ridges on top of their heads. This time, the Inquisitor did take out his lightsaber, ready to deflect any blasts aimed for him. 

It came to a surprise when some of them took out batons after having faced so many with only blaster pistols. He could not help but to smirk at the challenge.  _ Finally a fight worth of _ _ my time _ , he thought as he readied his blade. The first shots were fired and he easily deflected them before being forced to change his attention to one of the Klatooinians who charged at him, swinging his baton. Ezra held back a cry of surprise at the strength behind the swing when he blocked. Definitely a challenge. 

Alternating between blocking blasts and weapons was something Ezra had trained back on Nur with the purge troopers, it was just slightly more challenging when there were twice as many people to go up against. Ezra gritted his teeth as he hastily turned to block a second baton. Another guard had managed to get behind him while Ezra had been busy with the blasts and the Klatooinian. He was now forced to divide his attention to three enemy forces. Fortunately, the guards with the blasters were starting to dwindle as he parried their blasts, killing them. 

After finally managing to get rid of one of his physical attackers, he turned his attention to the second one. When he raised his blade to block another blow of the baton, Ezra felt a sharp pain in the back of his right shoulder blade. He grunted in pain and gave a quick peek over his shoulder to see that a small, barbed vibroblade had lodged its way into his flesh and following its trajectory, Ezra saw the attacker. It was a human, but his outfit was different from the others. Instead of the typical black tunic covered with thin armor and pants, this one had heavier armor and wore a helmet that covered everything but his face. Ezra deduced that he must be the head of the guards.

A warning in the Force redirected his attention to the opponent in front of him. Ezra used the pain from his injury to give him more strength. Pain, anger, and sorrow were the power source for the Force, and Ezra would use them to his advantage. Enhancing his strength, he was soon able to overpower the guard, momentarily taking him by surprise with a whack of the hilt in the face before twisting the blade and decapitating his opponent. By this point, the commander was already blasting, and a few blasts had already skimmed against Ezra’s flesh, burning through the clothing.

Annoyed, Ezra turned to face the commander and lifted his uninjured arm, curling his fingers. The commander started making a horrible gurgling sound as his airways were being crushed by an invisible grip. Closing his fingers further, the gesture caused the neck to snap and the man went limp.

“Had a difficult time, my apprentice?” The Inquisitor said as he stepped away from the wall he had been leaning on. Ezra held his tongue as he dropped the lifeless body from his Force grip and started to move down the hall. He could not complain, not really. The Inquisitor had stated he was only here to observe and after he had taken care of his attackers, he stepped back and let Ezra take care of the rest. 

Just after a corner, they had reached the office. There were no guards, already having fallen by the hands of Ezra which would work well for their unsuspecting entrance. Just outside the large, white double-doors, they could hear an angry voice, laced with panic.

“Commander Atton, can you hear me?!” The voice paused for a reply. “Atton, do you copy?! What is the situation with the intruders? Are they dealt with?? Atton!!”

“I regret to inform you that Commander Atton is dead,” Ezra said as he opened the doors, “As are the rest of your men.”

The man, who Ezra could only assume to be Irek Cohl, drew back from his commlink, startled. His greying brown hair was limp against his sweat-ridden forehead and the redness of his previous anger and panic drained, leaving his skin a pasty white. Irek opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally sputtering out, angrily, “Who are you?! Where are the rest, it can’t possibly only be the two of you!”

“Who we are is of no importance to you,” Ezra stated, keeping his voice void of emotion. “What _is_ important is that you will answer for your treasons against the Emperor and the Empire.”

Irek sank deeper into his leather chair, studying Ezra and the Inquisitor before his eyes dropped down to their weapons. Something in his eyes flickered as if recognising the lightsabers, but soon disappeared as he composed his face. Irek swallowed thickly before speaking. “Treason? I don't understand.”

“Oh, but I believe you do,” the Inquisitor said behind Ezra, amused. “We know all about your cooperation with the dojo, Coruscant Skies, on Coruscant along with their and your connection with the rebels.”

Irek’s face looked as if he had seen a ghost and his hands tightened its grip on the chair’s handles. “I-I do not know what you are talking about…” he stammered out, and the Inquisitor’s smile only widened, knowingly. Irek now knew that there was no way of getting away his act and his face contorted into a bright red. 

“The Empire is evil!” He exploded. “I remember the time before the Empire, when there was democracy and the senate actually had a say in it! Now we are merely puppets for the Emperor - a façade for peace and free-will! I remember the time of the Jedi - peacekeepers, which you clearly are not. You’re the true traitors, serving this corrupt Empire that does nothing for its people. I’ve seen the devastation caused by the hands of this system to the Outer Rim, swallowing up all its resources such as the ones on my homeworld! And now… they’re getting rid of the senators one by one, keeping them quiet so that the Emperor could get away with full control…”

Irek was out of breath, heaving, by the time he was done with his outburst. Ezra understood where the senator was coming from, of course. He had once believed that his homeworld, Lothal, had suffered under the hands of the Empire and just over a year ago, he had been part of the Spectres, going around and sabotaging the Empire, but that was in the past and that Ezra was long gone. 

It then clicked that this must be the reason why he was given this task, assassinating someone who worked carefully in the shadows in hopes of sabotaging the Empire. It was a test of loyalty. Ezra had no connection to Irek Cohl via Kanan or the  _ Ghost _ other than having that understanding of Irek’s reasonings behind his actions. And now, to prove Ezra was the loyal Emperor’s dog, he had to assassinate Irek. 

“The Emperor provides opportunity for new jobs and development,” Ezra stated slowly, carefully choosing his words. If his master suspected a single trace of treason, Ezra knew he would be punished severely. For the past year, he had to constantly listen to the propaganda, celebrating the greatness of the Empire. At first Ezra had to fight the urge to roll his eyes, but now that urge had faded over time. What Ezra had once felt of the Empire and their ways mattered little to him now and he would prove that to his master. 

“Then you are a fool, my boy,” Irek said gravely. Ezra hated the pitiful look in the man’s eyes. “Stay blind if you must, but know that one day, that world of yours will crumble and by then, it may already be too late for you.”

Ezra frowned, he decided that he had heard enough. Igniting his blade with a  _ hiss-snap _ and thrusted his blade forward, piercing Irek’s heart. Irek let out a gasp, his face twisting in pain before relaxing as his body became lifeless. Ezra deactivated the blade, allowing the body to slump onto the desk with a thud, and let out a shuddering breath as it dawned on him that he completed his mission. The adrenalin vanished, leaving him suddenly feeling tired and the pain from the blade became more apparent. 

Ezra’s eyes gazed over the corpse. It was his first time killing someone who did not directly attack him, was not someone connected to the  _ Ghost _ , and did not kill in a blind fit of rage. And he had done it without hesitation. Ezra turned to see the Inquisitor smiling at him, pleased at the display, and a warmth of pride spread throughout his chest.

“You did well, my boy,” the Inquisitor said and nodded towards the body of Irek. “You have succeeded in your mission.”

“Thank you, Master,” Ezra responded, inclining his head in thanks and respect. The corner of his lips pulled upwards into a small smile, satisfied that he had pleased his master. The nice thing about the Inquisitor as a master was that he would tell Ezra when he was pleased, and was very clear on what pleased him; Kanan was a lot more difficult, consistently telling Ezra to focus and complaining among other things. 

“Let’s return to the ship and attend to your wound,” the Inquisitor then said as he walked out of the office. Ezra glanced once more at Irek before following his master, avoiding stepping on any corpse on their way back outside. 

It was still pouring when they exited the quiet mansion, drenching Ezra once again. They trudged back through the mud, Ezra nearly slipping a few times on the unsteady ground now slick with mud and water. He felt relief when the ship came in sight, flashing brightly under the lightning. 

When they got on the ship, the Inquisitor notified his master, Lord Vader, of their success and Ezra waited patiently in the passenger area, ignoring the growing ache in his left shoulder. On their way back to the ship, the pain became more and more noticeable, growing into an almost burning-like sensation. When his master was done, he approached Ezra and Ezra assumed he would tell him where to find the medical supplies in the ship.

“Let me tend to your wound,” the Inquisitor said, and Ezra was taken by surprise. “The blade is in your back and you will not be able to give it proper attention by yourself.”

Ezra could not disagree with that and nodded. He silently watched as the Inquisitor took the medical supply kit from the lockers next to the last seat before Ezra started to peel off his tunic and turned so that the Inquisitor could tend to the wound. He hissed when he felt the blade being pulled out from his flesh, sending a sharp pain through his body. The stinging continued as the blood was wiped away with a scratchy cloth, and Ezra could not help but sigh as he felt the coolness of the bacta touching his skin, almost immediately numbing the pain.

It was odd for the Inquisitor to tend to his wounds. Typically his master would always send him away to the medical centre, but of course, there was no medbay on this ship and they were six hours away from Nur. And the Inquisitor was right that this was more efficient than if Ezra was to do it by himself. Suddenly, a great curiosity pulled at Ezra’s mind.

“Master,” Ezra began, feeling the Inquisitor dress his wound. “How did you become an inquisitor?”

There was a moment of silence and Ezra’s stomach dropped. Had he crossed an invisible line? He had only asked because he assumed that the Inquisitor was perhaps someone else before the rise of the Empire, unless the Inquisitor was much younger than he realised.

“It happened during the Clone Wars,” the Inquisitor began and Ezra allowed his muscles to relax. He hadn’t stepped over a line - not yet at least. “I was a Jedi Knight that doubled as a Jedi Temple Guard…”

“A Temple Guard?” Ezra interrupted and tensed again when he realised he did so. He had not meant to say that aloud. The Inquisitor, once again, did not punish Ezra for his insolence, but instead treated it with patience as he explained.

“Your previous master really had not taught you anything regarding Jedi,” he remarked snidely before continuing. “A Jedi Temple Guard is an anonymous duty given to a Jedi Knight at random and would be responsible for the protection and security of the Jedi Temple in Coruscant. During my duty as a Temple Guard, there was an incident that made me question my loyalty to the Jedi Order: the Jedi Temple Bombing.”

Ezra slowly nodded his head in understanding, his mind swirling with all the new information. By this time, the Inquisitor had finished tending the wound and Ezra slowly turned to face his master and pulled his tunic back over his head. Once done, the Inquisitor continued with his tale.

“It was then that I saw how easily the Jedi Council would cast aside an innocent Padawan, not even allowing her to plead guilty. Without a second thought, they threw her over to the military and into prison. It was then, I realised how far the Jedi Council had fallen into politics, how far they had strayed from the original ideals of what it meant to be a Jedi, what they were meant to represent. That was when I started to question all that I was led to believe.

I then started to seek out answers and knowledge to further indulge my growing curiosity and doubts. Of course, the Jedi Council denied me the rights to access the restricted Jedi Archives -  _ Jocasta Nu _ had deemed me unworthy of such knowledge,” The Inquisitor sneered at the name and Ezra could feel the hatred in the surrounding Force. “That knowledge was rightfully mine. Why should only the Jedi Masters be granted access to such datafiles when they themselves had become so corrupted by war and politics? Blindly judging the innocents, uncaring for the very people they swore to protect.

It was then that I lost all faith within the Jedi Order, just as the citizens had lost faith in the Jedi,” the Inquisitor finished, his hands were clenched tightly and only after a few seconds, did he relax them.

“Did you then leave the Jedi Order?” Ezra asked after a minute of silence.

“No,” answered the Inquisitor, “I did not leave. However… Near the end of the Clone Wars, I was approached by none other than our Emperor himself. He sought me out to offer me a proposition, one that I could not refuse; the position as Grand Inquisitor and access to the knowledge I had so desired. A few months later, the Clone Wars ended as did the Republic.”

The end of the Clone Wars, the fall of the Republic. Ezra had only ever heard it through his parents and what was said on the broadcast, both presenting contradicting information. Of course, he knew if he asked the Inquisitor, it would also contradict his parents’ version as they support opposite ends. However, his parents weren’t Jedi and they certainly were not on Coruscant when it all transpired.

“What  _ did _ happen at the end?” Ezra blurted out. “I mean… how did the Clone wars end and the Empire began?”

“As I stated before, the Jedi Council had become too intertwined with politics, which left them wanting more,” the Inquisitor replied. “They then plotted against Emperor Palpatine in an assassination attempt.”

This was the information Ezra had gathered previously from the broadcasts, typically told on Empire Day; how the Jedi attempted to assassinate the Emperor, leaving him scarred. It did not seem like the Jedi to want more power. However, who was he to deny the words of the Inquisitor? He had been there on Coruscant on the day the Empire was born, whereas Ezra was literally just born then. And again, Ezra had only really spoken to one Jedi, and said Jedi was only a Padawan during the Clone Wars; could not have known much regarding what was happening in the upper ranks.

“Due to their treason, Order 66 was commenced, and I was at the Jedi Temple at the time, disguised as a Jedi Temple Guard,” the Inquisitor continued. “I helped get rid of most of the Jedi Temple Guards, making way for Lord Vader and his 501st battalion to execute the treacherous Jedi. I did not meet Vader then, instead, I was given another task; to go and recruit another ally. The Twelfth Sister.” 

Ezra had caught a glimpse of the Twelfth Sister before walking down one of the corridors, only enough to see the typical Mirialan tattoos across the bridge of her nose. Perhaps, when he becomes a full-fledged inquisitor, he would be able to properly meet her and perhaps even work alongside the Twelfth Sister. 

“Does this satisfy your curiosity, my boy?” The Inquisitor asked.

“Yes, Master,” Ezra said, grateful. He had not expected to be told so much, but enjoyed learning more. “Thank you.”

When Ezra finally turned to look towards the cockpit, he was surprised to see that they were already in hyperspace. He had not realised how much time had passed since they started chatting and suddenly felt the exhaustion creep up. His eyelids felt heavy as they combated to keep open and his muscles ached from having to fight most of the forty guards.

When his eyes opened, the white and blue of hyperspace had disappeared, replaced by the blue moon against the black of space. Blinking in confusion, Ezra craned his neck into an upright position, immediately regretting the straining of his stiff muscles. He must have fallen asleep, and not in a comfortable position as was told by the aching of his neck. Ezra continued to peer out the viewport at the approaching ocean’s surface. He was still amazed as he watched the shuttle descend below the waters, making its way to the fortress in the blue-red glow of the ocean. 

When the shuttle docked, the Inquisitor stood up from his seat and made his way to the ramp. “Come with me,” he said without glancing back at the boy. Ezra hastily stood up, nearly toppling over his tingling legs which had grown numb during his sleep, and followed closely behind the Inquisitor. They trudged through the fortress and made their way to a large room with tall ceilings. 

On the dark walls hung the flags of the Empire on either side of a balcony, which Ezra assumed was used to observe progress of sparing or perhaps giving speeches. The room was certainly big enough for either event. The Inquisitor stopped in the centre of the room and Ezra followed suit, stopping just a step behind and looked curiously at his master. The Inquisitor then turned to give a pleased smirk.

“Kneel, my apprentice,” he said and Ezra did as he was told without a second thought. His crinkled in confusion as he stared at his master’s black boots. He completed the mission without fail, without mercy, so what was he doing here kneeling? It would not make sense for punishment, much less execution; too much time had been put into his training and there was no mistake that he was aware of.

“After discussing with Lord Vader, it has come to our attention that you learnt rather quickly over the past year and have made great progress under my tutelage,” the Inquisitor said, pleased. Ezra slightly relaxed upon hearing the words. So this was not punishment. He did not flinch when the sound of a lightsaber being activated reached his ears. “You have proven yourself a loyal asset to the Empire and it is with that that you have earned your place in the ranks of the Inquisitorius.”

The Inquisitor, with slow and graceful movements, hovered the hot blade above Ezra’s shoulder and then switched sides to the other shoulder before switching back to the right. “By the right and will of the Emperor, I dub you an inquisitor, agent of the Empire. Rise, Thirteenth Brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly doubt that there would be an actual sort of "knighting" ritual for inquisitors as they do with Jedi, but I thought it would be something cool to add - gives more volume to the whole Inquisitorius thing.  
> Next time I have a bit of a treat! And we get the moment you have all been waiting for (sort of...)


	13. Crossing Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra gets his first mission as an inquisitor 
> 
> Please be gentle with my drawing, I am still learning digital art as well as art in general, but I hope you guys like it... as well as see the references to our favourite Jedi Knight in SWR ;) (Also, please note the picture with the Inquisitor is not canon to this story... Ezra would never have that kind of relationship with the Inquisitor, it is more something he would do with Kanan... it just kind of popped in my head and so, why not?)

For the next six months, Ezra continued training despite already having earned his rank amongst the Inquisitorius. _Thirteenth Brother_ , that was the new name Ezra responded to now, although secretly in the private of his mind, he still kept his birth name. After all, it was the only thing he had left from his parents. This, of course, was not known by his master or anyone else, and Ezra was extra careful to constantly keep up his mental shields should the Inquisitor peer inside his mind. 

Ezra now wore typical inquisitor garbs with the black chest plate with shoulder pads branded with the Empire’s insigma, they had red designs. His undergarbs were similar to the Inquisitor's, light grey with dark grey lines and he wore black bracers lined with red and black gloves. Around his waist was a belt for his lightsaber, finding it easier and quicker to reach for it on his hip than on his back, and he had a kama, used by the Mandalorian warriors as leg armor and later adapted by the Clone troopers during the Clone Wars, which continued the black and red patterns. To finish it off, he had his typical leg armor with the knee pads and greaves. 

Ezra was allowed to design his own helmet, which had been a lot of fun; he remembered his ever growing collection back on Lothal with fondness. For its design, Ezra had been granted permission to look through some of the pre-approved Archives from the Inquisitor, where he had stumbled upon some inspiration; a mask that once belonged to a Sith Lord from thousands of years ago. It was a Mandalorian design, a trophy most likely Ezra thought. With it, he took the inspiration from the Jedi Temple Guard's masks, as a sort nudge towards the story that the Inquisitor had shared of his past. It could also be seen as a mockery to the Jedi Order if he ever came across Jedi that survived the Purge, and this of course, had gained his master's approval. The helmet included a built in vocoder that modulated his voice, hiding his identity and making him sound more intimidating. Due to his size and age, his opponents never took him seriously - even Krix still referred to him as "kid". 

There had been no immediate missions for him to attend to and so, he had continued to spend most of his time on Nur. Now, however, he was on his way to Takobo, a snowy planet in the Outer Rim, in his own TIE Advanced v1 which he had gotten along with his rank. Alongside him flew his master in his own TIE. They were given the task of recruiting a Force-sensitive baby for Project Harvester. It was Ezra’s first mission as an inquisitor and although it wasn’t an exciting one, Ezra wanted to do his best to please his masters, both the Inquisitor and Vader.

They had already succeeded in taking a human child from a civilian transport ship that had just left the atmosphere of Trogonia, capturing the ship in a tractor beam on an ISD, _Nighthawk_. Now they were on the hunt for their second target, an Ithorian infant in Hammertown

The city had grey buildings with accents of warm colours that towered over them and large lanterns hung over the street in a singular line. By the time that they landed their TIE Advanced v1s by Docking Bay 11, the sun had already set behind the looming buildings, casting a shadow over the city. 

“This Project Harvester,” Ezra began as he walked at a leisure pace beside the Inquisitor, “Is it to train more inquisitors?”

“Yes,” the Inquisitor replied in a low tone so that only Ezra could hear. This was a project only known by few, and the Inquisitor would rather keep it that way. “The Harvester Project had been going on even before the Clone Wars ended and its aim is to raise Force-sensitive children as Imperial Agents, and more specifically as inquisitors.”

“So,” Ezra mused, “even if I had not ended up meeting Kanan, I would have most likely still have ended up as an inquisitor then. Perhaps this is my destiny...”

“Perhaps,” the Inquisitor said thoughtfully. Ezra was not wrong with the Empire eventually finding him in due time and if the boy thought this was his destiny, the Inquisitor would not say anything to make him think otherwise. 

The duo stopped in front of a grey complex building with red framed windows and Ezra briefly looked up towards the floor level that their targets lived on as he walked into the building. They silently walked up the four flights of stairs and through the quiet hallways. There did not seem to be anyone around, although Ezra doubted anyone would attempt to interfere if there were witnesses. 

They then stopped in front of the grey door and Ezra used the Force to open the door against its will. A female Ithorian, assumedly the mother of the child, screamed at the unexpected intrusion, hastily turning around to face the inquisitors. 

Ezra marched into the room, attempting to look as intimidating as his small frame permitted. “Give us the child,” he demanded, his voice sounding much deeper and distorted from the vocoder. 

Although Ezra could not read the Ithorian’s facial expression, he could feel the fear of the possibility of a mother losing a child in the Force. She then twisted her body and picked up objects that laid scattered on the low table behind her and started throwing them at the inquisitors in a desperate attempt of getting rid of the intruders. The objects had done nothing but annoy Ezra as he batted the objects away with the Force. Seeing that it was useless, the Ithorian yelled out something in a language that he did not understand.

Moments later a droid zoomed out of a room carrying a basket and managed to bypass the inquisitors. Ezra looked at the doorway, dumbfounded, before gritting his teeth in irritation. He turned to follow after the droid when suddenly he was pulled back, slightly tumbling before regaining footing. Glancing down he saw that the Ithorian had thrown herself against Ezra in an attempt to slow him down and he rammed his elbow into her, causing her to fall backwards with a cry. 

Without sparing a second glance at the fallen Ithorian, who had lost consciousness after slamming her head on the table, Ezra ran after the Inquisitor. When they had reached the streets, the droid was already gone. The Inquisitor’s eyes scanned the area, searching. His height gave him much more of an advantage than Ezra’s.

“The droid went this way,” the Inquisitor said, looking down the street and began walking. Ezra looked at his master in wonder before snapping out of his daze and hastily followed after him. He was momentarily puzzled as to how the Inquisitor could locate the droid and the babe so quickly, but remembered a key fact about Pau’ans; they had keen hearing, far better than the human’s. 

It was only after a few blocks when they came across the small droid holding the basket. It was coincidentally heading straight at them and had as of yet seen the approaching inquisitors. 

Quickening their pace, the Inquisitor grabbed his lightsaber and threw it towards the droid. The droid attempted to turn around and flee, but was alas too slow when the lightsaber skimmed across the side of its head, damaging the circuits. Ezra used to Force to pull the basket towards him before the Inquisitor then kicked the machine down the street. Passerbys hastily avoided the commotion, not accidentally wanting to be caught into something that would cost them their lives. 

Ezra grabbed hold of the basket, taken aback by how light it was in weight and immediately knew something was amiss. Peering inside, Ezra’s shoulders shook as he was met with the bottom of the wicker basket. There was nothing inside; no baby. Gnashing his teeth, Ezra was about to throw the basket in frustration when a piercing cry grabbed his attention. Snapping his head to the side, he was surprised to see the one person he had least expected. Garazeb Orrelios.

The Lasat looked equally, if not more, surprised and his ears then flattened in weariness, his muscles tensing in preparation to run. Yellow eyes immediately dropped to what was being held in Garazeb’s arms - the Force-sensitive babe that Ezra had been searching for. _Of course_ , Ezra thought dryly, his surprise wearing off. It was funny how their paths crossed when he had least expected it to. Although if Garazeb was here, then that would mean Kanan would also be here on Takobo, and that made Ezra shiver with anticipation. 

For so long had he waited, had trained, for this. But Ezra knew he could not let his desire for revenge take hold, he had a mission to focus on, one he could not afford to fail. His fingernails dug into his palm as he forced himself to let go of the urges of his personal vendetta and chased after the Lasat who bolted down the street. But as he ran, his mind drifted back to Kanan as if it had a will of its own.

Would his desire for revenge finally be fulfilled after today? Would his master allow him to engage in combat with Kanan? And more importantly, was he even ready? Doubt started to waver his steps as Ezra questioned his abilities. 

“Thirteenth Brother, _focus_ ,” the Inquisitor warned and Ezra’s head snapped up towards his master, silently cursing himself for allowing his thoughts to once again cloud his main objective. 

Rounding a corner, they slowed down when the Lasat was nowhere in sight. There was no way that Garazeb had outran them so quickly, and thus, Ezra deduced that he must be hiding in the proximate area. They walked down the street with cautious steps, eyes peering out to see any movement and ears strained for any sound. Then, suddenly the Inquisitor stopped and Ezra followed his gaze up to a tall building with a large red sign. 

Only when they entered the building did Ezra hear the crying too. It came from above. How many floors, of course, Ezra did not know. The wailing echoed, making it difficult to distinguish how far away the babe was. And then, there was silence. The baby had stopped crying.

The Inquisitor’s lips drew downwards in disdain, but made no remark as he started to tread up the stairs. Sooner or later the baby would reveal itself. There were not many places for Garazeb to hide in the building and there were only so many floors.

Sure enough, as they were making their way down a dimmed hallway on the second floor, there was a cry. Lips curled up into a smirk and Ezra took large strides as he followed his master up to the third floor, pursuing the cry coming from a room at the of a hallway. The Inquisitor did not stop walking as he ignited his blade and jabbed the door, the durasteel melting away at the blade’s touch. 

A gasp of surprise and someone stumbling could be heard from the other side of the door. The Inquisitor receded his blade and stabbed at the durasteel a few more times. Eventually, the door gave in and slid open, revealing an empty room. Confused, Ezra stepped inside and his attention was immediately drawn to a beeping sound. It was a bomb, and he quickly grabbed hold of it and threw it through the hole in the ceiling. Not moments later, the bomb detonated, causing the room to shudder at its force.

Ezra then took a moment to study the hole and could see scorch marks along the edges and immediately knew it had been cut by a lightsaber. Kanan was indeed here. 

“Come, my boy,” the Inquisitor said as he walked past Ezra. “It would be rude to keep our friends waiting.”

The Inquisitor then proceeded to jump through the hole with elegant grace. Ezra followed, but with slightly less grace. He blamed it on his nerves, of course, knowing that Kanan was nearby. _Stop, focus,_ Ezra scolded himself. The mission was the Ithorian babe, not Kanan. That would come second and he was sure he would have his chance. _Patience._

He then changed his focus on the wailing that continued to insult his ears. It had become distant but still followable as they walked down the hallway and with every step, the crying became louder. Ezra paused mid step when he realised that his master was no longer behind him and instead had stopped by the stairs. 

“Master?” Ezra asked, hesitant. The Inquisitor shifted his gaze towards Ezra, listening. “The cry is coming from down the hall.”

“Are you certain?” The Inquisitor inquired, raising a brow, and Ezra suddenly felt doubt creep up. The Inquisitor had better hearing than Ezra, did he know something that Ezra did not?

“I... yes,” was all he could reply with and felt his cheeks heat up. Ezra was glad in that moment that his face was covered. 

The Inquisitor said nothing as he turned away from the stairs and tread down the hallway in the direction that Ezra had said the cry was coming from. Not too far down the corridor, they stopped in front of a grey door where the cry was most prominent. Swallowing, Ezra forced the door to open, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of his sweaty palms against his gloves. His muscles were tense, ready for the confrontation with Garazeb - _with Kanan_. The door opened to reveal - 

Nothing.

The room was empty and Ezra’s brows furrowed in confusion. The wailing of the baby could clearly be heard, echoing loudly in the room, but there was no Ithorian to be found. His eyes dropped to a small device that laid in the centre of the room. Picking it up, Ezra examined and immediately recognised it. It was a comlink.

Ezra growled as threw it to the ground, crushing the device with his boot and anger rolled off him in waves. He had been tricked. And more importantly, he had been made a fool in front of his master. Humiliated, he turned to glance at the Inquisitor who stood by the doorway in the hall, his expression kept neutral which made Ezra feel all the worse.

“Come, they are upstairs,” was all the Inquisitor said as he walked back to the stairs. Perhaps he was saving Ezra from further humiliation by not commenting or laughing he thought to himself as he reluctantly followed. This mission was supposed to be an easy retrieval, but now it seemed to fall apart at every corner. Ezra should have expected no less dealing with the Spectres; they could be quite cunning and resourceful when they wanted to be.

They reached the second last floor with still no sign of the baby or the rebels. Ezra started to wonder if they had somehow slipped by without their notice but Ezra doubted that, which meant they would be on the last floor. Ezra nearly toppled backwards when he had to suddenly stop. The Inquisitor stood still, his muscles tensing under his garbs as he reached out for his lightsaber.

Ezra looked around curiously but saw no one. Perhaps someone was coming and the Inquisitor could hear them coming. Suddenly the Inquisitor ignited his lightsaber and thrusted the blade upwards, piercing the air vents above. _Air vents_ , that was something that Ezra always had to crawl through. But Ezra was no longer part of Spectres and none of them would crawl into the vents, always ordering the boy to do the job as it seemed to be his specialty. So why was the Inquisitor stabbing it?

And then, as soon as it began, the Inquisitor stopped as if waiting. A second later, footsteps could be heard echoing against the metal floor and a shout. “Hey!”

It was Kanan. The Jedi pulled out his lightsaber and ignited the brilliant blue blade.

“If it isn’t Kanan Jarrus,” the Inquisitor said, his tone holding a playful tone. “I was beginning to wonder if you would show up. It has been a while since we last met after all.”

Kanan glared at the Inquisitor wearily before shifting his gaze to the figure next to him. Ezra tensed under the gaze of his former master and his fingers curled as resentment bubbled underneath the surface. His mind was in turmoil, barely able to comprehend the thoughts that raced by and Ezra could barely concentrate on what was being said.

“This is my apprentice,” the Inquisitor said, his sly smirk growing wider and his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and mirth as if relishing an inside joke or perhaps overcome with anticipation now that Ezra was now facing Kanan. “The Thirteenth Brother.”

Kanan’s lips drew back in a sneer at the introduction, and it momentarily caught Ezra off guard. He had never seen Kanan pull such a face before. “Then I guess I will have the chance to get even with you,” the Jedi gritted out as he deepened his glare at Ezra.

The words echoed in Ezra’s mind and his thoughts were immediately followed by the image of Teepo lying underneath him, dead. Did Kanan honestly think it was the Inquisitor who killed Teepo and now wanted to get even? Just the mere idea sent Ezra’s mind spiraling with emotion and he reached out for his lightsaber, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the hilt. _How dare he!_ He seethed, trying his best to even out his breathing. _How dare Kanan mourn a pathetic child that he had never met when he had me, only to cast me aside as if nothing._

Ezra ignited his blade when Kanan leaped forward, bringing his blade down and sparks flew as the two blades locked together. From the corner of Ezra’s eyes, he saw the Inquisitor engaging with Garazeb in hand-to-hand combat. His eyes then shifted back on the Jedi, and allowed anger to give him strength as he pressed down harder, pushing Kanan back. Kanan grunted under the strain before jumping back, putting distance between the two. 

With a growl, Ezra followed suite and launched a few quick, aggressive attacks. With the formidable defence of Form III, Kanan blocked each and every one of the blows but Ezra could see that the Jedi was struggling to keep up. Finding an opening, Ezra raised his knee, causing Kanan to gasp out blood as he doubled over from the impact. Ezra then kicked Kanan down the hallway, using the Force to enhance his blow. 

Before Kanan could hit the wall, Garazeb caught him and prevented him from collapsing on the floor. "Time for a new strategy,” he said before dragging a still dazed Kanan off down the hall. “Run!”

Ezra and the Inquisitor hurried after the Lasat and the Jedi, but as soon as they came around the corner, they had been too late. Kanan had used his blaster to break the window at the end of the hallway before they jumped out down to the streets below. Slowing down near the edge of the broken glass, Ezra gritted his teeth as he watched the Rebels get away on an landspeeder. He had been so close to defeating Kanan, he was sure of it, and now he was getting away.

“Commander, send in reinforcements and lock down all spaceports,” the Inquisitor said into the commlink. After getting a confirmation, he glanced down at Ezra, “Come.”

Without a warning, the Inquisitor jumped and Ezra quickly followed afterwards, landing on an landspeeder that happened to pass by down below. Ezra made quick work of removing the Ithorian from the driver seat and took his place. He had mostly only driven speeder bikes, but fortunately had some experience with landspeeders. The Inquisitor remained crouched in the backseat, his feet spread wide to maintain balance as Ezra swerved through the street to catch up to the Rebels.

Just as they caught up to the Rebels, Kanan got a lucky shot on one of the engines and Ezra started to quickly lose altitude. Before crash landing, the Inquisitor threw his lightsaber vertically with precision, disconnecting the engine from the landspeeder and making it swirl out of control before crashing in the distance. 

Ezra grunted as their own speeder contacted the ground with a violent shudder, sending him forward in his seat. It took a few seconds to get his bearing but he and the Inquisitor managed to jump out of the wrecked vehicle and ran towards where the Rebels crashed, following the trail of smoke. As soon as they got there, Ezra spotted Kanan and Garazeb running to none other than Sabine Wren and in her arms, was their target, the Ithorian babe. 

He smirked at the sight. Perhaps his luck was about to change and this mission had not been botched by the Spectres. 

The Rebels quickly spotted the approaching inquisitors and Ezra deflected each blast from Garazeb as the Lasat made quick use of his bo-rifle. Despite the Ithorian child being their primary target, Ezra’s eyes stayed on Kanan and Kanan alone as he ran towards them. He just could not help himself when he was so close that he could almost taste victory.

The Lasat was pushed out of Ezra’s way via the Force by the Inquisitor and Ezra cried out as he ignited his blade, bringing it down towards Kanan in a wide arc. With every block, Ezra became more aggressive, fueling his strength with his anger and hate. Snarling, he kicked out, hitting Kanan in the knee joint causing the Jedi to cry out in pain. Ezra then roundhouse kicked, bringing his foot into contact with Kanan’s head, hard enough to send him rolling next to the fallen Lasat. 

Ezra took a moment to observe his master’s progress and saw that Sabine had also collapsed and the Inquisitor was leisurely on his way to collect their target. Then, all of a sudden, the door to the docking bay opened, revealing a shadowed figure against bright white light. Stepping out of the light, Ezra could now see that it was a female Togruta with white and blue montrals and headtails, and was dressed in blue warrior garbs. In her hands, she confidently held two lightsaber hilts.

“Ah, if it isn’t the infamous Ahsoka Tano,” the Inquisitor said, lacing his tone with a delight of a predator, one that used to send shivers down Ezra’s spine. Ezra had never heard of this Ahsoka Tano person before, but assumed by her weapons that she must be another rogue Jedi.

Ahsoka ignored the Inquisitor’s comment and instead stepped towards the now waking Mandalorian, never taking her eyes off the inquisitors. “Sabine, get the youngling to the ship,” she ordered, her voice calm as she ignited her two white lightsabers.

Sabine did as she was told without any complaint, shaking awake the other Spectres and beckoning them to follow her back to the Phantom along with the Ithorian. Ezra growled at the sight of the escaping Jedi and target. He started to follow, but two white blades moved up so fast that he barely had time to block. 

Ezra gnashed his teeth, surprised at how strong the Togruta was. She was clearly much more experienced than Ezra or even Kanan was, and the boy became quickly overwhelmed with each strike. Then, in his peripheral vision, Ezra saw the red glow of his master’s blade heading in their direction and Ahsoka quickly turned to deflect the blade. Seeing this as his chance, Ezra raised his blade to strike.

However, he was too slow and Ahsoka already turned her attention back to him, and pushed him back with the Force. Hard. Ezra grunted, the air forced from his lungs upon impact against a tall column and he slumped to the ground, his vision blacking out.

Ezra nearly regretted waking up, his head throbbing painfully. He groaned as he carefully lifted his helmet off his head and gingerly pressed his fingers to the wound on the back of his skull. Memories of the encounter with Ahsoka surfaced and Ezra looked up to see if the battle was still going on, slightly wincing as his vision blurred.

When his vision became clear, Ezra saw his master talking to the commander stormtrooper as other soldiers secured the area. From the look of things, it appeared that the rebels had escaped and with them, their target.

Slowly getting up from the ground with some difficulty, Ezra approached the Inquisitor. Upon closer inspection, he could now tell that his master was very stiff. Almost as if wary and dare he say, afraid. Afraid of what exactly, Ezra could only guess. But the one thing was clear, horrifically clear; they had failed.

“Master,” Ezra greeted. His throat tightened, almost too afraid to speak. His master was obviously not in a good mood right now, regarding his apprentice with a scowl. 

“Our TIEs have been destroyed,” he said in a low voice, clearly displeased with how the mission ended, and Ezra winced. If the rebels had discovered their ships, then it was most likely they also took the other target. The Inquisitor went on, seemingly not done with giving the bad news. “We have to board _Nighthawk_ and debrief Lord Vader of the mission.

_This was definitely not going to end well_ , Ezra thought as he silently followed his master onto the awaiting Lambda.


	14. Failure is not an option

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra meets his true master, the Dark Lord of the Sith, Vader.

Kanan slumped into the pilot’s chair feeling winded, a thick coat of sweat gleaming off his forehead. He wiped it off with the back of his hand and heaved a shuddering sigh, leaning forward onto his knees. Kanan felt relieved he had escaped from the inquisitors, but it would not have been that way if it were not for Ahsoka. That was so far the only good thing that came out of knowing the Rebellion, a Jedi - or at least a former one, and the former apprentice to the great Jedi General Anakin Skywalker, no less. 

He swung the chair around to face the back of the  _ Phantom _ and smiled at the sight of Pipey being held lovingly by his mother and Zeb holding the human babe they had found in one of the inquisitor’s TIE. Sabine stood beside Zeb, smiling at the babies and passing on comment to Zeb about how good he was with children despite his scary face. He looked to his left at Ahsoka who was leaning back against the wall, observing the scene with soft eyes.

“Ahsoka,” Kanan called, and she directed her attention to him, “Thank you.”

She gave him a smile and pushed off the wall, taking a step to stand beside Kanan who had already turned to face the cockpit again. The starry black was a comforting sight as they left Takobo’s atmosphere, away from the inquisitors and Imperial troops, and into the blue-white of hyperspace.

Thirteenth Brother… 

The one who wore a mask with the markings inspired by the Jedi Temple Guards, as if the Jedi Order had been nothing more than a joke. Kanan was then slightly overcomed by shame that he had allowed himself to be spurred by the Inquisitor’s introduction for his new apprentice, consumed by his hatred. It was not how he was taught to act by his master and the Jedi Order, and Kanan was supposed to know better than that. 

And yet, there was still some lingering resentment that bubbled beneath the surface, the inkling small thread of desire of wanting nothing more than rid the Inquisitor and his apprentice from the galaxy. 

It was the fact that the Inquisitor had gotten a new apprentice, whereas Kanan had lost one to that very same vile man. It was almost as if the Force had wanted Kanan to suffer more from failing Ezra, ripping open scabbed wounds and making them bleed all over again. But this time, he felt worse than the first encounter with the Inquisitor after Ezra’s death. And that had all been due to the presence of that Thirteenth Brother.

Why the apprentice bothered Kanan more than it should, he did not fully understand. His presence felt familiar, and yet unrecognisable. Too shrouded in the dark side, making it difficult to see. 

Kanan heaved a sigh, frustrated by the whole ordeal. His senses were too clouded to make sense of anything, but if he was certain of anything, it would be that this was not going to be their last encounter. And next time, he would be ready. 

“Is something bothering you?” A gentle voice brought Kanan out of his thoughts and he felt a warm touch to his shoulders. Glancing up, he was greeted by Ahsoka’s concerned face.

“Yeah… but it’s nothing,” he brushed off the concern, but he could not brush off the odd feeling of doubt and something more… dark. “It’s just -” he sighed again, feeling a bit silly, “This Thirteenth Brother person, there’s something about him…”

“Have you encountered this Thirteenth Brother person before?” She asked.

Kanan sighed deeply, and brought up a hand to rub the strain from his temples. “No,” he said eventually after a minute of silence, “I haven’t.”

“Hmm… the Thirteenth Brother was just a kid,” Ahsoka said, and thoughtfully caressed her chin. “And these children are also Force-sensitive… I’ve seen it before, back in the Clone Wars when a Sith Lord attempted to capture young Force-sensitives, but back then the Jedi Order was able to stop it.”

“And now there is no Jedi Order to protect these children,” Kanan finished. “But that would not explain why they had to kill Teepo, who was not even trained in the Jedi way… but then again, perhaps Teepo refused to go willing just like -” his throat bobbled as he struggled to get the next few words out, “-Like Ezra…”

The hand on his shoulder tightened in a comforting gesture. “Ezra… was he your Padawan?”

“Yeah, he was,” Kanan confirmed, and there was a small twitch of the lips as he remembered the boy fondly. “He was a great Padawan, fun too. Got into trouble a lot.”

Ahsoka chuckled remembering her days as a Padawan, getting into all sorts of trouble alongside Anakin. “I can imagine that he would be proud of you… protecting these Force-sensitive children so that they may never face the horrors of the Empire.”

“I’d like to think so too,” Kanan smiled but it never reached his eyes. None of these children deserved to have the same fate as Ezra, dying at the hands of the inquisitors, or worse - becoming an inquisitor. Kanan would protect these children at all cost, better than he had done with Teepo or Ezra. His smile faded as guilt took root in the pit of his stomach. 

_ Ezra… _

____

Ezra twitched nervously as he waited beside his master. Over the past year and a half, he had never personally seen Lord Vader, only heard of him through the inquisitors and those fortunate enough to live; Lord Vader had never thought it was worth his time to personally meet Ezra or welcome him amongst the ranks of the Inquisitorius. And from what he had gathered, Lord Vader was not a man of patience or mercy. Even now, beside him, the Inquisitor stood tense, waiting for his master to appear.

The holoprojector flickered on, brightening the dimmed room in a glow of blue and a clear image of Lord Vader came into view. The inquisitors immediately kneeled before their master.

“Lord Vader,” the Inquisitor said, his tone kept neutral and did not betray how nervous he felt.

There was no immediate response and all Ezra could hear was the sound of the respirator gritting against his ears. It made his stomach twist uncomfortably as he waited, listening to the intimidating presence.

“I’ve been forewarned that your mission did not exceed as planned,” Lord Vader’s deep voice boomed and Ezra tensed. 

“No, my Lord,” the Inquisitor’s tone was still neutral but from the corner of Ezra’s eyes, he could see the Inquisitor tensing. “The Rebels have escaped along with the Force-sensitive children.”

“The same Rebel cell led by the rogue Jedi, Kanan Jarrus,” Lord Vader added. “The very beings you were trained to hunt after. I would have expected more from the leader of the Inquisitorius, _Grand Inquisitor_.” 

Ezra spared a sideways glance at the Inquisitor, but the Pau’an kept his face neutral for the most part except for the minuscule twitch in his jaw. It was the Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother who were supposed to be on the hunt for Kanan rather than the Inquisitor and Ezra, but clearly that mattered little to Lord Vader and it certainly would not pass as an excuse. 

“Yes, Lord Vader,” the Inquisitor replied, this time there was a strain in his voice. 

“Your failures will not go unpunished, _Grand Inquisitor_ ,” Lord Vader said, putting an emphasis on the title of the Inquisitor. His voice remained neutral for the most part, but Ezra knew that the lord was displeased with him and the Inquisitor. He stiffened, his fingers digging into his knee when he heard the next part. “And perhaps it is time to teach the Thirteenth Brother what it means for an inquisitor to fail,” he paused and the Inquisitor stiffened visibly this time. And Lord Vader saw this, too. “And since you seem to be so _fond_ of the boy, I will personally see to his punishment.”

“Yes, of course, Lord Vader,” was all the Inquisitor said before the holoprojector flickered momentarily before disappearing, casting the room in shadows. They remained silent for a few seconds, barely daring to breathe before they rose from their kneeling position.

Slowly, the Inquisitor brought his wristlink up. “Captain,” he said, “Set course for Mustafar.”

Ezra had never been to Mustafar, only seeing it as a distant red globe in the distance from Nur’s surface. The journey there had been that of a tense silence, one of which even the officers were too afraid to break. Ezra would steal sideway glances. It unnerved him how quiet, how tense his master was. The Inquisitor obviously knew what this punishment entailed, whereas Ezra did not. His mind wandered to something that the Inquisitor had told him on the shuttle on their way to  _ Nighthawk  _ back on Takobo. 

_ There are some things far more frightening than death. _

Without even attempting to decode the meaning behind the sentence, the words itself were enough to send a shiver down Ezra’s spine. And now, seeing the hell planet below the  _ Nighthawk _ from the viewport made the words all the more believable. The surface of Mustafar looked as if it were on fire, with lava twisting and turning in pain that Ezra could feel through the Force. And despite the hellish landscapes, it felt so… _cold_.

However, the  _ Nighthawk _ did not descend to the surface. Instead, it drew near to Lord Vader’s flagship,  _ Executor _ , which orbited Mustafar in all its glory. The ship was massive, the biggest that Ezra had ever seen and could not help but to stare in awe. The Inquisitor and Ezra took a lambda shuttle to board the  _ Executor _ , the shuttle being nothing more than a speck of insignificant dust in comparison dreadnought.

Ezra’s heart hammered as the shuttle landed in Bay 17 and the ramp descended with a  _ hiss _ . He did not want to be here, but knew he had no choice. After all, they had allowed the Rebels to escape with their targets, it had been their fault and Lord Vader had the right to punish them. It just did not mean that Ezra had wanted to suffer.

Much to his relief though, Lord Vader was not there to greet them first hand. Instead, it was Admiral Ozzel who was accompanied with four death troopers - elite forces. Whether it was to show off his status or for security, Ezra did not know and quite frankly, did not care. All he could think of what would come next.

“Grand Inquisitor,” Admiral Ozzel, an older human man, greeted, his voice holding no pleasantly. “Thirteenth Brother.”

“Admiral Ozzel,” said the Inquisitor, his lips thinned with disdain. Ezra merely nodded as a greeting, noting the tension between his master and the Admiral.

“Lord Vader is awaiting you in his office,” the Admiral continued, his voice grim and Ezra noticed the way he had said Lord Vader’s name. “If you will follow me.” Ozzel then turned around and marched out of the hangar bay with the death troopers in pursuit. 

The walk was a silent one, and Ezra did not mind it. He took the time to take in his surroundings, not that it was much interesting. The endless hallways were the typical Imperial hallways; grey everything. The only noticeable difference was the shape. Instead of the typical rectangular hallways that Ezra had seen many times before, the  _ Executor _ had hexagonal shaped hallways. It was a minor difference, but recognisable nonetheless, especially considering the width was much larger than the ones on an ISD. 

Then, after what had felt like forever and Ezra could no longer distract his mind with the endless hallways, they had reached Lord Vader’s office. The stormtrooper outside the door demanded for their cylinders for identity verification before allowing them to enter inside. As soon as Ezra took a step into the large office, he stiffened. It felt so cold, almost to the point of it being oppressive and Ezra had to force his feet to move.

When inside, Ezra immediately noted that the office was empty. There was no sign of Lord Vader and he felt himself slightly relax, although not enough to rid the feeling of weariness. It was now a waiting game, and to distract himself from going into complete panic, Ezra studied the room. 

In the far back of the room stood a large, black desk with a built in holoprojector, most likely the one he used to communicate with the inquisitors earlier, and behind the desk stood an imposing leather chair. The black walls had no décor other than the geometric shapes etched into the surface, bordered with white soft lighting. Looking further around, Ezra could see two closed doors to the left and one door on the right side of the room. 

The latter door slid open and Lord Vader gracefully entered the office, his cape fluttering behind him with every step. Ezra’s heart stopped at the sight of the man. Although the Sith Lord was only slightly taller than the Inquisitor, his presence had felt even more overpowering - suffocating even. 

The Inquisitor and Ezra kneeled, whereas Admiral Ozzel stood and gave a stiff inclination of his head. 

“Lord Vader,” Admiral Ozzel said and Ezra could hear the tension in his voice. “I have brought you the inquisitors,” and then he hesitated for a moment, “Is there anything else you require of me, my lord?”

“Leave,” Vader ordered and Ozzel hastily left the room after another quick nod of the head. The door slid close behind the Admiral, leaving the two inquisitors alone with their master. A few seconds of silence had passed although to Ezra they had been the longest seconds of his life, just waiting and listening to the mechanical breathing. Then, finally, Lord Vader spoke. 

“Tell me,  _ Grand Inquisitor _ ,” Vader began, “How is it that the Rebels have managed to escape your grasp along with the two Force-sensitive children?”

Ezra had a feeling that Vader knew the answers already, but wanted to remind the Inquisitor and him of their humiliating failure. From the corner of his vision, he could see the Inquisitor tense before speaking, clearly struggling from keeping his voice neutral. “There was unexpected help from another rogue Jedi, my lord… Ahsoka Tano.”

“So you say,” Vader’s head dipped slightly downwards. It was hard to determine the lord’s reaction due to the helmet and the neutral voice. His hand on his belt shifted over to his lightsaber hilt, his fingers twitching upon contact with the metal. “As the leader of the Inquisitorius, I would have expected you to be sufficient enough against two rogue Jedi, especially if your… apprentice… is as strong as you claimed him to be. Clearly, you were wrong and the boy is nothing more than a disappointment.  Perhaps a lesson is in order. One that would prevent such humiliating failures in the future.”

Ezra blinked as he struggled to adjust to the bright light, his heavy eyelids threatening to close again. The light did nothing to help the horrid pounding of his head and he slowly moved his aching eyes enough to see that he was in the medbay. The irritating sound of beeping machines grinded against his ears indicated as such, although whether it was located on the  _ Executor _ or not, Ezra was unsure of. 

A small groan escaped his lips as he attempted to move only to be met with sharp pain. His whole body felt stiff, his muscles sore and it took a moment to remember why; Vader had punished him for his incompetence on his first mission.

Ezra had not believed the Inquisitor when he said he was more merciful than his master. Now Ezra wanted to almost laugh at ever doubting those words. The punishment, or rather lesson as Vader called it, was more brutal than anything he had ever faced before; passing out almost as quickly as it began. Although, however brutal it may have been, the message was clear. There was no such thing as failure.

The returning memories were not all clear. They were hazy recollections that swam out of sync in his mind’s fog, and attempting to decode them only caused Ezra’s head to throb. Bringing his right hand up in hopes to massage the pain away, Ezra froze and his throat tightened as he suddenly forgot how to breathe. Where his right hand was  _ supposed _ to be was now nothing more than a stump, wrapped neatly in bandages.  _ My hand… _ Ezra numbly thought, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. 

That was when a clear memory surfaced, along with a phantom pain. Vader severed his hand to serve as a reminder of his failure, of what would happen should he fail again. Something twisted uncomfortably inside of Ezra and he quickly moved his arm out of sight, no longer able to bear looking at the hideous stump. He could taste the bitter saliva that accompanied the wave of nausea. The memories of Vader that had resurfaced upon seeing his arm were too much for Ezra to bear, and he wished he did not remember them at all.

He had failed his mission because of Kanan’s interference. Once again, he had suffered because of Kanan.

Ezra’s lips twisted downwards into a snarl at the realisation. The severest of pains he had faced during his time with the Empire were always caused by Kanan, as if abandoning the boy was not enough. Now his missing hand would serve as such a reminder, too; the mocking face and laugh of Kanan flashing in Ezra’s mind every time he stole a glance at the stump.

He had been so caught up in his thoughts and emotions that he almost missed the approaching presence. Looking up, he saw the Inquisitor standing by his bedside. He felt slightly surprised that he was seeing his master this soon, unless the Pau’an got off easier than Ezra or healed faster since Ezra could not see any visible signs of inflicted pain.

“Master,” Ezra greeted, quickly sitting up and inwardly wincing at the pull of stiff muscles. His eyes then fell on the medical droid that stood beside the Inquisitor before returning the gaze back at his master. “How long have I been here?”

“You have been unconscious for two days,” a robotic voice answered. 

“This is 2-1B, a medical droid,” the Inquisitor waved a hand towards the droid lazily, “He will be overseeing your health checkup as well as your new hand.”

“I see…” Ezra murmured, “A new hand, huh.”

“Yes, the cybernetic hand will be just like your old hand, the one of flesh and blood,” 2-1B explained. “It will offer the same sensations and movements.”

But it would not be the same as his old hand, this much Ezra knew and he scowled down at the stump that laid motionless on his thighs. Nothing could replace the flesh that had once been and no amount of fancy gadgets could abate the humiliation of his failure caused by none other than Kanan. But he supposed he should be grateful that the Empire was giving him a new hand at all. 

“After the procedure, meet me in the meditation chamber,” the Inquisitor said, drawing Ezra’s attention away from his injured arm. The Inquisitor then turned to leave the medbay.

“Wait, Master!” Ezra called out, “Are we-”

“We are back on the  _ Nighthawk _ ,” the Inquisitor replied, cutting Ezra off. Ezra’s face heated up, of course they would be on the  _ Nighthawk _ rather than remain on the  _ Executor _ . 

“Ah, yes… thank you, Master,” he replied lamely as he watched the Inquisitor leave. 

“Let’s begin the procedure,” 2-1B said.

The procedure itself had been uncomfortable, even painful at times, but after many hours, it was over. Now, Ezra held up the ugly black metal that acted as a hand before him and flexed each digit, testing its responsiveness. When 2-1B had tested the sensations of the cybernetic hand, he had felt each poke of the needle, almost as if it had been poking flesh. It was an odd sensation when one could clearly see that it was metal, and not skin or muscle like a real body part. 

Sighing, Ezra lowered his new right hand. He supposed it was better than nothing and that at least the technology was good enough. Still, he wished nothing more than to keep the glaring metal out of sight, and perhaps a glove would do the trick. But that could wait until later, right now, the Inquisitor was expecting him and Ezra had to freshen up before heading out to the meditation chamber. 

The meditation chamber was not difficult to find as he had been there a few times prior on the  _ Nighthawk _ . The slanted columns decorated in red writings of an ancient tongue that Ezra could not interpret gave a sort of feeling of comfort, easing his muscles of any tension as he made his way to the centre. There the Inquisitor sat cross legged under the red glow, his eyes closed as he meditated. Ezra, not wanting to disturb his master, moved as silently as possible as he, too, sat down right across from the Inquisitor.

“Thirteenth Brother,” said the Inquisitor, his eyes remaining shut. “At last you have come to join me.”

“Master,” Ezra greeted in return, “You had wanted to see me?”

“Ah, yes,” his eyes opened, revealing the gleaming yellow orbs. “I was contacted by Captain Ku'ia who was overseeing the testing of cadets at Ionae Academy.”

“And I’m guessing some of these cadets are Force-sensitive?” 

Ezra winced at the glowering look from the Inquisitor for interrupting. “Indeed,” he said tersely. “We are to head there and observe this cadet ourselves tomorrow.”

“For now, however,” the Inquisitor rose to his feet, motioning for Ezra to join. “We will test out your new hand in training.”

May as well get used to his new hand now, Ezra decided, flexing the metal with some sense of discomfort. He would not fail tomorrow. He would never fail again, not Vader or the Empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long running joke of cutting off limbs has caught up with Ezra (sorry Ezra). Until next time!


	15. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Lothal, the hunt is on.

The mission at the Ionae Academy had been a success. The cadet with outstanding results had indeed been Force-sensitive, but certainly not anything noteworthy. In the end, the Inquisitor decided to let the cadet continue his training at the academy and would keep an eye out before deciding to take action. The details of Project Harvester were still a bit lost to Ezra, who only knew what the Inquisitor had told him back on Takobo; where they took the children or what they did to them Ezra could only guess, but seeing what he had gone through, he doubted it was anything pleasant. 

Still, it was not Ezra’s job to question his master or the Empire, only to serve. And that was what he continued to do over the next four months, either on solo missions or with the Inquisitor. He had not gone on missions with other inquisitors, but he had met the Fifth and Eighth Brothers and Seventh Sister in the mess hall back in Fortress Inquisitorius. They were… interesting characters to say the least. The Eighth Brother was rather rambunctious, whereas the Fifth Brother was more silent and the Seventh Sister was slightly more on the creepy side. 

Needless to say, he felt rather happy that he only went on missions with the Inquisitor. Perhaps it was the fact that the Inquisitor had taught him almost everything he knew about the Force and using lightsabers, guiding him along his path. 

Now he was assigned a new mission, this one was again shared with the Inquisitor.

The Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother had failed too many times on their hunt for Kanan Jarrus and by extension, the  _ Ghost. _ Ezra did not want to think about what kind of humiliating punishment they had to compensate for such failure. And so, the mission had fallen into the hands of the Inquisitor and Ezra. He felt an overwhelming amount of emotions at the upcoming hunt. Nervousness for the confrontation; anticipation for the hunt; fear for the possibility of failure, to allow Kanan to slip through his fingers again like back on Takobo.

Ezra suppressed a shiver at the remembrance of the consequences of his failure on Takobo. It was not a memory he enjoyed and he stopped himself from glancing down at his abomination of a hand, and instead forced himself to look out through the viewport. He was on the bridge of  _ Nighthawk _ , the ISD that he seemed to regularly travel on for missions, and Ezra ignored the chatter of working technicians in the data pit. 

The planet he had once called home was nothing more than a small orb in the vastness of space. Ezra had not returned here in two years, and during that time, he had rarely thought of Lothal. It was hard to do so and was best kept back in his mind, the memories serving little purpose other than resurfacing the feelings of bitter remorse at having lost his parents and encountering the Spectres for the first time.

And now he would return to Lothal, but this time, he would leave with memories of victory. His lips twitched upwards into a smirk beneath his helmet at the thought of defeating Kanan. All the pain that the Jedi had caused him would finally be answered for, and it would be Ezra to carry out the act. After all, the Inquisitor had promised to give him the honours of ending Kanan's miserable existence, to finally put Ezra's past behind and heal old wounds.

A voice brought him out of his musings when an officer approached the Inquisitor, who stood in the centre of the bridge not too far away from Ezra. “Your shuttle is ready and waiting, sir,” the man informed the Inquisitor, his muscles stiff. Ezra had learned that Imperial officers were not very comfortable around ‘mystics’ as they called them, but he did not blame them knowing the rumors of Vader floating about, having experienced the wrath of the Sith Lord first hand. 

“Come, Thirteenth Brother,” the Inquisitor said as he walked off the bridge and towards the hangar. They boarded the Lambda and made their way down to the green-blue planet below.

“When the time comes, my boy,” the Inquisitor began, “You will have the honour of ending Kanan Jarrus. After all, it was what you deserve after all he had done to you.”

“And I will not fail,” Ezra said, feeling grateful at the opportunity. The Inquisitor inclined his head in agreement, his lips tugging into a smirk and his eyes burned brighter with anticipation. 

They arrived at the Imperial Complex in Capital City and were greeted by Agent Kallus and Minister Tua. Kallus looked at them with an unimpressed expression, perhaps thinking more mystics were unnecessary, whereas Tua nervously fidgeted where she stood. Ezra could tell that they certainly had not gotten used to being around inquisitors despite having worked with two previously. That was no matter, of course, fear was after all an effective way of ensuring subordination. 

“I was not aware that there were two inquisitors coming to Lothal,” Kallus frowned, eyeing the inquisitors warily. He focused mostly on Ezra’s mask, as if trying to peel away the metal to peer what was beneath. Ezra, of course, smirked at the amusing thought of what Kallus would do once he uncovered his identity, after all the trouble he had caused the ISB agent.

“This is my apprentice, Thirteenth Brother,” the Inquisitor finally answered when they had reached Minister Tua’s office, unaffected by Kallus’s foul mood at being uninformed. “He joined the assignment to assist in the hunt for Jarrus as he has a score to settle with the Jedi.” 

The cease between Kallus’s brows deepened. “A score?” He echoed, sounding even more unimpressed than before.

“Revenge,” Ezra clarified, earning a scowl from Kallus. He knew that was not what the agent meant, but he could not help but to pull his leg just a bit.

“And just who is Jarrus to your… uh… apprentice?” Kallus asked, ignoring Ezra as he gestured towards the apprentice.

Ezra lifted his hands to his helmet and he slowly removed it, revealing his face. It took Kallus a moment, and Tua even longer, to recognise the young man; it had after all been two years and Ezra was no longer the little boy of fifteen.

“Kanan was my former master,” he said, smirking. Ezra got the results he had hoped for and Kallus looked like a fish out of water, attempting to put together words that refuse to leave the throat. He could feel the man’s unease when he stared into the eyes that were no longer the lively blue, and instead were a sickly yellow. Eventually, Kallus looked away and cleared his throat, composing himself once again.

“Well, I…” Kallus stammered, “I see… I had wondered what had happened to you when you disappeared.”

“I suppose we should focus back on the debriefing.” He gestured towards the desk and Tua sat down in her seat behind whereas the rest remained standing. 

Apparently the Rebels were causing quite the trouble for the Imperials on Lothal, from stealing valuable crates to blowing up equipment such as TIE fighters at the flight compound just outside of Capital City. And the activities became more and more frequent, and definitely more organised, keeping the authorities on the tip of their toes. Commandant Aresko and Taskmaster Gint had already paid with their lives for their incompetence of stopping the rebels. 

“It would seem that the rebels are causing you quite some trouble, Minister Tua,” the Inquisitor said in a low voice, peering down at the minister who squirmed under the intense gaze. Kallus and Ezra stayed silent, observing the scene playing out.

“Well,” Tua began, her nervousness replaced by agitation. “I’ve doubled patrols, set up checkpoints, established curfews. I honestly don’t know what else to do.”

“Perhaps that is the problem,” the Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed and his smirk grew, as if enjoying the Minister’s nervousness spiking in the Force. “You lack imagination, Minister, when it comes to producing results.”

Tua’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she was able to make a sound, her throat tightening as if knowing exactly where this conversation was heading to. “Grand Inquisitor, with all due respect, you and Governor Tarkin are asking for miracles. If the rebels have left Lothal, then-”

“If the rebels have left, then we must draw them back,” he interrupted. “And if they are here, we must draw them out. We shall use methods that will make people reveal these traitor’s whereabouts.”

“I’m sorry, but I am merely a public official. I have no experience with such… brutal tactics,” she gestured her hands in the air, unable to come up with a better word or excuse. The Inquisitor’s smirk grew wider, and Ezra knew he was enjoying this very much.

“Very well, then you can explain that to Governor Tarkin when you visit him.”

“ _ Visit him _ ?” Her voice squeaked as she repeated the words, her brows arching worryingly and her eyes widening. She looked like a mouse who had just been caught in the claws of a cat, unable to escape.

“He expects you tomorrow to account for your failure,” the Inquisitor said.

“But I… I’m  _ needed  _ here – I… I couldn’t possibly get away!” Frantically, she tried to come up with an excuse, anything to delay the inevitable, remembering the last time she had a meeting with Tarkin alongside the Inquisitor. Unfortunately for Tua, the Inquisitor and Kallus were not having any of it.

The Inquisitor turned to leave the office, ignoring the frantic Minister and Ezra quietly followed, putting back on his helmet before exiting the room. Kallus hovered by the doorway, turning around to face the Tua who sat distraughtly behind her desk.

“Not to worry, Minister. I’m sure we will manage in your… absence,” Kallus offered with a smirk before disappearing into the hallway.

Falling into step beside his master, Ezra glanced upwards. “I did not know that there would be a meeting with Tarkin tomorrow.”

“There isn’t,” he replied, keeping his gaze straight ahead. Ezra’s eyebrows pinched in confusion. “But the rebels cannot help themselves but to help those in distress.”

Ah. The pieces fell into place and Ezra could not help but to admire the brilliancy of the plan. The Inquisitor was right. If there was one thing the Spectres could not resist, it would be helping those in need, and Minister Tua certainly fell into the category of requiring desperate help. 

___

Kanan grudgingly sat on the bridge, half listening to the meeting with Sato. He was still having a hard time accepting being part of the rebellion. He did not want to be in another war, not after what happened to him in the last. 

Commander Grey and Captain Styles and the rest of the clones had turned their back on him and took away his master, Depa Billaba, right before his eyes. Even now, the memories of that night and the events taking place soon afterwards haunted him every night.

Suddenly Chopper rushed into the room, waving his arms around. He had an incoming transmission, which was a bit unusual. Usually it would be Fulcrum that would call them.

“Who from, Chop? Ah, why don’t you just play it,” Kanan grumbled out. He knew he was being rude and slightly childish, but Kanan couldn’t help himself. His moods had soured since the encounter with the Grand Inquisitor and his new apprentice on Takobo, and being reluctantly part of a larger rebellion did nothing to ease said moods. And so, he found himself opening rebutting at everything and everyone.

Hera glared at Kanan with disapproval and cleared her throat. Kanan looked over at the Twi’lek and disregarded her annoyance with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Uh, Chop, cloak us with a one-way transmission,” Hera told the astromech. 

They were surprised when it was Old Jho’s face that appeared on the hologram, glancing around confused when the Ithorian couldn’t see anyone. He then stated that someone had requested him to contact the  _ Ghost _ out of sheer desperation for help. The rebels were even more surprised when that  _ someone _ was none other than Minister Tua from Lothal.

Kanan immediately protested and told Chopper to end transmission. He did not care for what she had to say, and why should he? Tua was an Imperial after all and could not be trusted. 

“Please, I beg you. Listen to my request.” Tua sounded desperate and scared. She had her shoulders hunched forward as if to appear small as possible and her arms were wrapped tightly around her body. 

“End transmission now, Chop,” Kanan demanded, not even bothering to hide his disdain in voice. After all that the Empire had put them through, why should they listen to the Minister of Lothal? 

“Wait!” Hera interfered and paused to give a disapproving look towards Kanan before bringing her attention back to Tua. “ Minister, what do you want?” 

“My life is in danger. I  _ need _ you to give me safe passage off Lothal,” her voice was low as if not wanting to attract unnecessary attention.

“You’re not really considering this?” Zeb dubiously looked at Hera. He also did not like where this was going. Hera harshly hushed him, wanting to listen to what the Minister had to say.

“I assure you my intentions are sincere,” she stammered, her voice rising in panic. Tua then lowered her voice again, “to prove it, I will trade secret Imperial information.”

“You’re defecting from the Empire?” Sabine asked, flabbergasted. She couldn’t believe what the woman was saying, and shared a doubtful look with the other Spectres.

The Tua looked defeated and lost as she casted her eyes downwards. “Yes, I am…”

There was a moment of silence as the rebels took the time to absorb the information presented to them. It weighed on them heavily and left them wondering what course of action to take. Hera decided to take the lead. “So, what have you got to trade?”

“A list of rebel sympathisers on Lothal and other nearby systems,” Minister Tua said.

“How come these sympathisers have not been arrested?” Sato finally decided to speak up, still weary. Surely the Empire would not allow for rebel sympathisers to be running around freely. The thought itself was preposterous. 

“Some have powerful friends in the Senate. Imperial command watches them but can do nothing,” she replied. “I know you need allies… Get me off Lothal, and I will give you the list.”

Hera looked at the crew with a questioning gaze, silently asking what they should do. Kanan sighed, “we shouldn’t even consider this…”

“It’s obviously a tap”, Sabine agreed, rolling her eyes. The deal was too good to be true. 

“There’s something else”, Tua desperately added, making one last attempt to persuade them. “I’ve discovered the true reason the Empire came to Lothal.”

“We know that one,” Hera said unimpressed. “The Empire has a factory and they’re stripping the planet’s resources to fuel it.”

“No,” she quietly said, glancing around nervously. “There is  _ another _ reason known only to a few and ordered by the Emperor himself.” 

This had certainly caught their attention. Another reason to be on Lothal and only known to few? This type of intel was too good to pass up and with a quick look around the room, the rebels had already come to agreement. However, it seemed that Tua was not done with sweetening up the deal.

“And Kanan Jarrus… There is something else; something that would interest _ you _ .”

He glared at the Minister with uncertainty. What could she offer that would be specifically useful to him and not the rebels as a whole? “Yeah? And what is that?”

“The Thirteenth Brother… the Grand Inquisitor’s apprentice… I know who he is…” 

The room fell silent at the mention of the inquisitors. They had been a pain in the butt ever since they had first appeared back on Stygeon Prime and that encounter with the Grand Inquisitor had left the Spectres bitter with the loss of Ezra Bridger. It had been two years since but even now, the mention of the Inquisitor caused them to stiffen with a burning resentment. They would never forgive the Inquisitor for what he had done, and the Pau’an had the gall to act like it was an amusing joke, dangling the loss of the boy to break their resolve, to egg them into becoming unfocused. And now, the Inquisitor had an apprentice, the Thirteenth Brother. 

Kanan had only met the Thirteenth Brother once back on Takobo four months ago, but that inquisitor was hard to forget - almost as difficult to forget as the Inquisitor. There was just something about him that Kanan could not figure out, even after months of trying. The aura felt familiar but was so twisted with the dark side that it clouded his perception, making his mind’s eye coil at its touch. 

And to make matters more disconcerting, Kanan could feel the burning rage from the boy. But it was not any normal rage that fueled the Force of the dark wielders. No, it was a concentrated hatred, focused on one object of interest. Kanan. 

He had felt the Thirteenth Brother’s glare from behind the darkened glass of the helmet, saw the twitch of muscles when their paths crossed, and felt the determination behind every swing of the blade. Whoever this Thirteenth Brother was, hated Kanan for reasons unbeknownst to him. However, if Minister Tua knew just who this person was, then perhaps Kanan could finally solve the puzzle. 

“And how would  _ you _ know who the Thirteenth Brother is?” Kanan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Because I have met him,” Tua’s voice strained. “Look, I can give you all of this information _if_ you can safely get me off of Lothal.”

Kanan sighed and brought a hand up to rub his tired face. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering this. Lowering his hand, he glanced over to the other rebels who all gave a small nod of agreement. “Fine, we will get you off Lothal tomorrow evening. We will send further details once we come up with the plan.”

“Thank you,” Tua sounded sincere and tilted her head before ending the transmission. 

“Well, I guess we’re on our way back to Lothal,” Hera said, amused, though Kanan could feel that she was still seething beneath the surface. He was very certain he would get an earful regarding his actions soon enough.

“I guess we are,” Kanan agreed before leaving the bridge, walking by his lover, avoiding any eye contact.

Kanan did not make it far down the hall when Hera pulled him into a small corridor just off to the side of the hallway. Her eyes shined fiercely - she was not pleased. Kanan shifted his gaze away from the burning green orbs, not able to meet his lover’s disapproval any longer. 

Kanan broke eye contact, not able to meet his lover’s disapproval any longer. He  _ knew _ how he behaved on the bridge was inappropriate. 

“ _ What was that? _ ” Hera demanded, he voice low. She relaxed her grip on Kanan’s shoulder, but did not release her hold.

“I don’t know,” Kanan mumbled out, still avoiding eye contact. Hera sighed and brought her hand up to cup Kanan’s face and gently turned his face towards her. 

“Kanan…”

Kanan heaved a sigh before covering Hera’s hand with his own. “It’s just… it’s just the rebellion,” he paused for a moment to think of how to phrase his next sentence. “This  _ isn’t _ what I signed up for. I don’t  _ want _ to be in another war, not after what happened in the last one.”

Hera’s hand that was still on Kanan’s shoulder ran up and down his arm, offering a sense of comfort and safety. She knew it was hard for him to talk about the Clone Wars and all that had happened during it, but she also knew it was not the only thing bothering Kanan.

“But that isn’t the only thing that has been bothering you for the past two years.” 

Kanan gave a small sigh.  _ Nothing escapes Hera _ , he thought fondly. He felt lucky to have such a caring person in his life. “No, it isn’t,” he admitted finally, his hand squeezing Hera’s.

“It’s the inquisitors, isn’t it,” Hera said, “More specifically the Inquisitor showing up again along with this mysterious Thirteenth Brother. He seems to be getting to you...”

Kanan had not spoken much of how the inquisitors had affected him back on Takobo. The sudden appearance of yet again a new inquisitor had left him feeling slightly down and hopeless, but  Kanan did not want to admit aloud that the Inquisitor  _ had _ been successful in getting under his skin by showing off his apprentice when he had taken his Padawan away from him.

“You know,” Hera’s hesitant voice broke Kanan’s thought pattern. “What happened to Ezra… was not your fault… We didn’t -  _ couldn’t  _ \- have known better.”

This was not the first time Hera had told him this, and he was certain that this would not be the last. And yet… “I wasn’t strong enough for Ezra then… and I am  _ still _ not strong enough - if it weren’t for Ahsoka, I don’t think I would be standing here right now.”

Hera let go of Kanan’s cheek and moved in to embrace him, leaning her head over his chest, listening to the calming beat of his heart. Kanan pulled her closer, though he did not feel deserving of such affection. Not when he was like this.

“You have been training so hard in the past few months, even taking up training sessions with Ahsoka,” Hera said, her voice slightly muffled by the clothing. She pulled back and looked Kanan in the eyes, “And Kanan, you have to accept that there was nothing you -  _ we _ , could have done to have changed the outcome… All we can do now is to keep Ezra alive in our memories and cherish the time we had with him. With the Rebellion, we could free Lothal in his honour. That is something he would have wanted.”

Kanan let out a deep sigh. “You’re right… Perhaps it is time to finally move forward, to look towards the future and to do what we can for those in need - including freeing Lothal.”

Hera smiled gently and leaned up to give a quick kiss. These moments were rare and far in between when it was just them two. She pulled back, and Kanan tried to follow, wanting more but she stopped him.

“And one more thing, Love,” Hera said, “It is okay to feel resentment towards the inquisitors - you are only human, even if you are a Jedi. They will answer for what they did, whether it is by your hand or by mine.”

He chuckled softly. “Justice… For Ezra,” he agreed. 

Hera pulled away, smiling. “For now, let’s focus on the upcoming mission.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel slightly bad for using the plot from the series, but it serves to my story so well.  
> The next chapter is one of my favourites and cannot wait to share it. >:)


	16. The Revealing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission went to hell.

The civilian transporter unlocked itself from the Alderaanian cruiser before jumping into hyperspace. It would be too risky to descend to Lothal with the  _ Ghost _ as they were very certain that the Empire had the freighter’s signature on their radar by now and it would be best that they did not have the Empire on their tails for this mission. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Kanan asked, making double sure that everyone knew the plan and that there would be no mistakes. He toyed with his blasters, examining them before giving them a good swirl; it was a good way to distract himself from the fact that they were rescuing the minister of Lothal. 

“Okay, so Minister Tua is scheduled to visit Governor Tarkin tomorrow,” Sabine began. “She leaves Lothal via shuttle at 1800. We wait at the hangar, steal the shuttle and take her to safety.”

The plan was simple, perhaps too simple. Of course, not all the variables were accounted for - there were just too many unknowns. However, if Tua was right and that she would be going to the shuttle without escort, the plan should go relatively smooth. Then again, their plans rarely ever go off without a hitch. Worst case scenario, they fly off in the shuttle with a few pursuers. 

The deal was good, and well worth the risk. In return of taking her safely off Lothal, she would provide a list of rebel sympathisers as well as the identity of the Thirteenth Brother, who Tua insisted was someone that Kanan knew. As a precaution, they had agreed on “prepayment” where Tua had sent two names from the list in advance to prove that what she said was true, and much to their surprise, the names checked out.

"That sounds... simple enough," Kanan replied. 

"At least it isn't one of your plans," Zeb joked and Kanan scowled. His plans were never bad, they just happen to change often. 

"Hah, yeah," Sabine agreed as she leaned back into her seat. Hera held back a smile as she watched them tease Kanan, Chopper of course joining in with the comments. 

"Ugh, whatever," Kanan grumbled out as he looked out of the window, the corner of his lips lifting slightly upwards. This felt like it was going to be a long mission, but at least he had his family to keep him entertained. 

The shuttle shuddered when it exited hyperspace and began its descent to Lothal after having the clearance to land. The Spectres gaped as they passed by the numerous Star Destroyers that not only orbited the planet, forming a formidable blockade, but also hovered above Capital City. Things really had changed since the last time they had been here, and that was only a few months ago when they last went to clean Ezra’s grave. 

Kanan clenched his teeth. It hurt him to see Ezra’s home planet get overrun by Imperials and knew that he would have to do something about it. Perhaps once learning the true reasons for the Empire’s presence on Lothal other than the TIE Defender project, they would have enough intel to encourage the Rebel Alliance to take action on Lothal. 

Zeb and Chopper stayed behind with the civilian transport shuttle as backup whereas the rest made their way to Bay 23. Capital City was quiet at this hour, at least regarding the citizens. As they neared their destination, the streets were crawling with stormtroopers and there would be no way for them to bypass and get into the hangar.

“Huh, we’ll need a distraction,” Hera said thoughtfully as she peeked around the bend. Kanan scoured the area and his lips tugged into a smirk when he saw just what he needed. 

“Well, I’m gonna go make a few friends,” he said, jokingly. “When Tua arrives, I’ll keep ‘em busy while you all drop into the hangar from above.”

“Make a few friends?” She asked skeptically, raising one of her brows.

“It’ll be fun,” he shrugged, not explaining his plan further. 

“ _ Fun? _ ” Hera echoed, already not liking where this was heading. 

“Don’t worry, General Hera,” followed by a mocking salute as Kanan. He knew he should not act childishly, but could not help himself and so, he replaced all the playfulness with a serious expression. “Just be ready to move.”

He could feel his lover’s glare as he walked away towards a stormtrooper commander, but he knew her well enough to know that she was not actually upset with him. Only slightly irritated. 

Nearing his target, he sped up his pace and placed a hand on the ‘trooper’s shoulder, effectively slowing him down to a halt. “Hey!” Kanan mustered as much enthusiasm in his voice as possible as he grabbed the helmet, peering through the blackened glass. “Did we meet in basic training? You look familiar!”

In the stormtrooper’s confusion, Kanan did a few quick jabs to the shoulder, effectively rendering the man unconscious. He dragged the body away into an alleyway, before stripping the man of his armor and propping him against the wall in the shadows. Satisfied with his handiwork, Kanan proceeded to put on the armor without much trouble; they were fortunately the same size. 

Propping the helmet under his arm, Kanan walked back into the light of the street lamps. He smirked at Hera and Sabine who had not moved from the corner, waving a salute before putting the helmet on. It would be a good thing for them to know that he was going as the commander before they decided to accidentally shoot him, mistaking him for an actual buckethead. 

He advanced towards Bay 23 without a problem, no one questioning his presence given the appearance of his superior ranking. A few minutes later a landspeeder made its way down the street and Kanan eyed it warily. In the passenger seat he could see Minister Tua, but that was not the problem. Beside her was none other than Agent Kallus. 

He did not allow his foul mood to give away his presence as he stood at attention when the speeder stopped. They were close enough for him to hear their conversation, Tua was nervous and by the sounds of it, she certainly had not expected this. 

“Thank you, Agent Kallus, but there…” she stumbled on words, pausing as if to remember how to move her tongue properly. “There was no need for an escort.”

“The Grand Inquisitor asked me to make sure you reached your shuttle safely.” Kallus smirked and his eyes narrowed almost knowingly.  _ The Grand Inquisitor _ … That was not good. Kanan wondered if that meant the inquisitors were present here on Lothal. His eyes scanned over the proximate area but saw no menacing figures in black. 

“I see.” Tua’s spirit deflated, casting her eyes downward as they exited the speeder.

“We can’t be too careful about security these days.” Kanan would have laughed at the statement as he stood behind Kallus if it were not for the fact they were on a mission and he had to continue impersonating a ‘trooper. 

Just as they entered the docking bay, there was a shout and they turned to see Sabine. That was the only warning they got before she started shooting.

Kallus growled, taking out his blaster before yelling over his shoulder. “Minister, take cover!”

Deciding that now was better than ever, Kanan revealed himself by shooting the control panel, forcing the doors to close. “Rebels!” Kallus sneered, taking aim at the Jedi who jumped behind cover, joining Hera and Tua. The ISB agent must really love them at this point Kanan mused as he attempted to shoot back.

“Minister, get to the shuttle,” Hera ordered, peeking over the crates to take aim at the stormtroopers. “we’ll be right behind you.” 

Tua did not hesitate to agree and dashed towards the Lambda shuttle. Blasting a few more times, the Spectres followed shortly afterwards but as soon as they neared the shuttle, it blew up. The shockwave sent them hurling back, skidding across the rough floor with a thud. Kanan groaned as he sat up, his body aching from the impact as he watched the shuttle that now stood in flames. “Minister Tua…”

“You did this!” He could hear Kallus snarl over his ringing ear and they hastily made for cover to avoid the blasts. The bay doors were forced open and Kanan suddenly felt… colder. The hairs on the back of his neck rose as he peeked over the crate he took cover behind already knowing what he would find. 

There stood the Inquisitor in all his glory, scouring the battle field with a smirk and behind him were a squad of troopers. Just what they needed. Kanan had improved over the last few months, training occasionally alongside Ahsoka, and his chances at taking on the Inquisitor was a lot higher than before, but now was not the right time. He could not endanger his family by engaging the Inquisitor unless it was absolutely necessary. 

And as luck would have it, the familiar civilian transport shuttle swooped down and Zeb hung from the open doorway, blasting away at ‘troopers.  _ Just in time, as always _ , Kanan smiled. He gave a quick glance at the Inquisitor who leisurely made his way towards them, as if enjoying the hunt, unworried that their transport was here. He did not even throw his lightsaber when they made a run for it.

“Come on!” He waved his hand, motioning for the others to move out to the shuttle. One by one they jumped onboard, Chopper complaining about their tardiness before closing the door. Kanan did not relax as they were not out of the clear yet. The shuttle started to fly away from Bay 23 when all of a sudden it shuddered under the impact of a blast coming from an AT-ST. He gritted his teeth as he gripped one of the chairs to keep himself steady as the shuttle fell from the air.

“Brace yourself!” He yelled out over the roaring engines and they were sent flying when the shuttle made impact with the ground, skidding across the road. With a groan, Kanan came to and immediately became alert as he scanned for the crew. They were all scattered across the ground but he could see no immediate injuries that were life-threatening.

“Come on! Get up! Get up!” Sabine urged as she helped Hera up to her feet. 

They got out from the bent and shattered hull of the shuttle, or what was left of it, and onto the streets. On their crash, they had fortunately not severely damaged other than leaving a trail of burning debris. So far, there were no stormtroopers in the proximate area and Kanan guessed that they had all merged at Bay 23.

“Come on, let’s get moving before the Inquisitor catches up!” Kanan said over his shoulder and they nodded in agreement. Hopefully they could find some form of transport to get out of Capital City and to somewhere safe. Kanan skidded to a halt when he went around a bend, his heart jumping into his throat. He just had to jinx his luck, didn’t he. 

“Why did you-” Sabine’s question died on her tongue when she saw exactly why Kanan stopped running.

There stood the Thirteenth Brother, his black armor glaring ominously under the dim light offered by the overhead streetlamps. His lightsaber came to life with a  _ hiss-snap _ , blazing a brilliant red.

Kanan stepped forward, holding his arm out. “Get back,” he said, his voice grim. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Kanan…” Hera reached out but Kanan brushed her off, keeping his eyes on the Thirteenth Brother.

“Go.” His voice left no room for argument and the crew hesitated a moment longer before nodding their heads in understanding. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Kanan,” Hera paused mid-step, “Come home.”

Kanan smiled, “I will, now go!” 

And they did, disappearing into the shadows of the night. The Thirteenth Brother chuckled, his distorted mechanical voice causing Kanan’s smile to fade away at its unpleasant sound. 

“How noble of you to save your friends like that,” he taunted, “Unfortunately it would be for nothing.”

“They can handle themselves,” was all he offered as he ignited his lightsaber. 

The Thirteenth Brother only chuckled again, twirling his lightsaber. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment, Kanan Jarrus,” he sneered. 

So the Thirteenth Brother  _ did _ know Kanan and this was some kind of a personal vendetta. “Who are you?”

The Thirteenth Brother gave no answer as he lunged forward, striking Kanan with the aggressiveness of a Rancor, wildly swinging the blade with viscous energy. Kanan was ready and blocked, gritting his teeth from the stain. The inquisitor had become stronger since they last met, but so had Kanan. Forcing the blade up, Kanan kicked the Thirteenth Brother in the abdomen, causing the inquisitor to stumble slightly back with a grunt.

He growled and quickly composed himself just in time to block a strike from the Jedi. Kanan’s mind was clear, which took a lot of focus. It was difficult to not think of avenging Ezra’s death by killing the Inquisitor’s apprentice; an eye for an eye type of situation. But he must remember his Jedi training, he was better than that, stronger than that, and he would make the inquisitor surrender himself to the Rebel Alliance. Although, Kanan very much doubted that the Thirteenth Brother would easily give himself over as a prisoner.

“How does it feel to be weak? To fail your  _ family _ ,” the Thirteenth Brother spat out. Kanan ignored him, knowing he was trying to get a reaction out of him. He would not fail his family, not after what had happened to Ezra two years ago. No, he would be strong and persevere. 

“How did it feel to fail another child,” he continued, striking from above before sweeping the second blade from down below. Kanan frowned in confusion. “What was his name again… oh yeah, _Teepo_.”

Teepo. The Force-sensitive Rodian that he and the crew were supposed to protect until they had found a safe base. The Rodian that had been found by the Empire; perhaps dead or worse by being tortured right now to become an inquisitor. 

Kanan growled, jabbing the abdomen only to be blocked. He was losing ground he realised as he was being pushed back.

“I slaughtered him like the weak insect that he was,” he said, sounding pleased. Kanan’s heart dropped at the information. It couldn’t be true, that would be too cruel. “Using only my bare fists until he stopped begging for you to save him.” 

The Thirteenth Brother laughed when he saw the anger in Kanan’s eyes. The inquisitor was right, he  _ had _ failed to save two children; his own Padawan who had been cut down by the Inquisitor right before his very own eyes and now Teepo who had never even stood a chance, beaten to death by the apprentice of the Inquisitor himself. 

Kanan started to attack more aggressively without even realising it, seething in his own anger. He started to push the Thirteenth Brother who seemed surprised by the sudden rise of emotion. They continued to exchange blows, sparks flying and their arms burning under the strain. But Kanan ignored his tiring body, he had to hold out and come through - for Ezra, to bring justice to his needless death, for Teepo who had not deserved the same fate, and to go home to his awaiting family.

And then, he saw it. An opening.

Thrusting his blade forward, it went into the space between the emitter ring and hilt, and Kanan brought the blade up with all of his remaining strength. It sliced through the metal, causing the inquisitor’s lightsaber to fizzle out, and up across the helmet, slicing through the metal. The Thirteenth Brother cried out, falling back and stumbling onto the ground. Raising his lightsaber, Kanan brought it down for the final strike, the one that would end it all, the one that would bring justice.

And then it was as if time itself stopped.

In the brilliance of the blue light reflected back eyes widened in fear. Eyes that belonged to none other than Ezra Bridger, Kanan’s dead Padawan.


	17. The Truth

Kanan’s mind swirled as it tried to make sense as to what he was seeing. The Thirteenth Brother could not have been Ezra, that couldn’t be possible and it must be all some kind of sick joke. He had seen Ezra  _ die _ for Force sake! So why… Why was Ezra at the receiving end of his blade?

“I… I don’t understand,” Kanan managed to choke out. He could feel bile rise and forced his body to move, lowering his blade. He had nearly struck down the very boy he had mourned for the past two years, the boy he had seen as a son over the time they had spent together. 

Ezra scowled, still on the ground, using his arms as support. “What isn’t there to understand,  _ Jarrus _ . Strike me down, kill me. You obviously had wanted to.”

The words made Kanan’s stomach churn. He hadn’t meant to - he did not know that the Thirteenth Brother was…  _ Oh Force _ , Ezra was the Thirteenth Brother. “I thought you were dead, I… saw you die… The Inquisitor, he -”

“The Inquisitor struck me down, but it was  _ you _ who abandoned me, you wanted me gone, left me to be tortured!” Ezra let out an empty laugh. “Well, here is your chance to do it yourself.” Ezra extended his arms out in surrender, leaving his torso wide open.

“N-No!” The thought of hurting Ezra was vile, wrong! He took a step back, his weak knees nearly giving out. “I _tried_ to grab you… but-”

“Nothing but lies!” Kanan flinched from the sudden outburst, Ezra’s yellow eyes glowering with such intense hate.  _ Yellow _ … The dark side. His Padawan, the one he thought dead, had surrendered himself completely to the dark side and there was no one to blame but himself. It was as if he was back in the moment when he was in the hallways of Stygeon Prime and he suddenly forgot to breathe, his lungs refusing to take up any oxygen.

“I saw it! You left me! Ran away like the coward you were, just like what you did back in the Clone Wars!”

The comment had been unexpected. Kanan had never mentioned details of the Clone Wars to Ezra, only vague comments. The look of confusion must have been evident on his face as Ezra laughed bitterly. “Unlike you, the Inquisitor -  _ my Master _ \- taught me many things, including how much of a coward the Jedi were.”

Kanan opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing but a strangled sound came out. He felt sick, and Ezra’s next comment made him feel even sicker.

“You have no idea how much pain I’ve been put through because of you.” Ezra lifted his right hand and clenched it, only it wasn’t a hand - at least in the sense of flesh and blood. The metal gleamed under the streetlamps, and Kanan’s stomach nearly dumped its contents then and there. “All the torture I had to suffer because of you.”

Kanan took another step and Ezra got up, smirking as he started to approach the Jedi; his walk was slow and predator-like, but Kanan would not fight him if he attacked. He couldn’t. His throat tightened, and it took him a moment to realise that it wasn’t from anxiety, but it because of Ezra. Kanan’s hand instinctively went up to grab his throat to try and disrupt the choking but it had no effect.

Black spots began to appear, but through them he saw it. A flicker of hesitation. Then all of a sudden Kanan was surrounded by smoke. The tight hold on his neck disappeared and he barely could catch his breath when a purple arm pulled him onto a landspeeder that flew past. 

Kanan took big gulps of air, coughing as he struggled to regain his breath. Zeb patted his back in concern, looking at him with worried eyes. Hera did not look back at Kanan, keeping her gaze out on the road as they sped down the highway, away from the horrors of Capital City. 

They did not slow down until they were certain that they had put enough distance between them and the Imperials, stopping near hills that offered them coverage from the cool wind and searching eyes. Kanan did not immediately move from his seat, his body still in shock. It was only when Zeb forced him to get out of the landspeeder, his hand guiding Kanan to the small clearing where Hera had built a small fire that offered little to no warmth. 

Kanan took a seat, distancing himself further away from the Spectres, preferring the cooler shadows opposed to the warm glow of the fire. They looked at him in concern, their brows drawn together. He could sense that they were almost as confused as he was, but they had not seen the yellow eyes that belonged to Ezra, the hatred that stormed within them. 

“That inquisitor…” Zeb hesitantly began, almost as if unsure what he had seen himself. “Was… was that _Ezra_?”

Kanan brought a hand up to his mouth, suddenly feeling the surge of bitter saliva. He struggled to keep down the contents threatening to expel themselves and he willed his tongue to move. “Yes,” he choked out, blinking his misty eyes. “The Thirteenth Brother… is Ezra.”

Hera gasped, her eyes widening and Sabine threw herself into Hera’s arm, wanting nothing more than the comforting touch of a mother. Zeb and Chopper looked equally distraught, Zeb’s ears flattening and Chopper making a sad beep as he lowered his body. An overwhelming sense of guilt rose inside of Kanan and he could no longer hold his nausea back. 

Wrenching his body to the side, Kanan hurled, his shoulders shuddering at every breath and hurl. Ezra, his son that he had thought dead had been broken down by the Inquisitor, tortured into submission with whatever twisted truths the Inquisitor had fed him to make him into a tool for the Empire. Although, however twisted the truth was, there were still some hints of reality to them. 

Kanan  _ had _ left Ezra back there on the Stygeon Prime. It did not matter how hard he had initially tried to grab Ezra. The fact was, Ezra had been alive and Kanan had never tried to go back for him. 

Kanan slammed his fist on the rock he was seated on, a jolt of pain running up his arm. Damn it! He swore he had felt the snap of their Padawan-Master bond, and he had foolishly believed it! His stomach churned at the realisation as to why the Inquisitor had been insistent on stopping Kanan from retrieving the body; the Inquisitor  _ knew _ Ezra was not dead and Kanan had allowed the Inquisitor to deceive him. And because of that, Ezra had been hurt, abandoned, and smothered by darkness.

Absent-mindedly, Kanan brought his hand up and stroked the bruise forming on his neck. Ezra had tried to kill him, even if he had hesitated. And it had all been Kanan’s doing, his fault for the boy’s hatred. His fingernails scratched into his skin, causing it to sting in irritation, but he paid no heed to the pain. Kanan’s mind was still too numb, overwhelmed by the naked, harsh truth. 

Ezra had been right. Kanan was a coward, and he wanted to do nothing more than run away. Just like what he had done back in the Clone Wars, back on Stygeon Prime. And now, he was abandoning the boy again, leaving him in the hands of the Empire back in Capital City.

Suddenly, all the energy left drained from Kanan’s body and he slumped his shoulders forward in defeat. All the training he had done in the past months to grow stronger in order to bring justice to Ezra’s death had been slapped back in his face, rendering him useless. Kanan gritted his teeth, and balled his fists. 

“Damn it all!” He cursed aloud, jerking to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. Kanan paced, kicking any small rock in his way but they did little to ease the growing angst. “I should have handled the situation better! I should have -” he stopped, catching his breath as he choked back tears. “I should have done better to prevent this from happening, to have attempted to go back and rescue Ezra…”

The Spectres sat in silence, allowing him to seethe. Eventually it was Sabine that got up, removing herself from Hera’s warm embrace, and placed a gentle hand on Kanan, effectively stopping him from his pacing. 

“I could say the same…” she said, her voice low and her swollen eyes casted down. “I could have fought alongside you to grab Ezra. Instead, we all ran… and we all believed that Ezra died, not going back to rescue him.”

The last bit came out more as a sob and Sabine tightened her grip on Kanan’s arm. Tears started to spill and Kanan grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her. 

“We share this burden together,” Hera said somberly, staring unseeingly into the flames. Kanan disagreed with the statement, but knew it was not worth arguing over. He had been the one there with Ezra and the Inquisitor, he was the one responsible for the boy’s safety, and he was the one with the Force. And yet, Kanan had failed even more than he ever thought possible and the price of that failure had been Ezra’s spirit, now tarnished and scarred.

Kanan and Sabine sat down, this time joining the warmth of the fire. He did not deserve to sit with everyone, not after how he had abandoned his son, but he knew that they needed him right now. They did not say much after that, still digesting the cruel irony of having thought Ezra dead for so long only to find that he had become an inquisitor they had desperately wanted dead.

“It has been a… long day,” Hera mumbled out. “We should probably try to get some shut eye before planning how to get off Lothal.”

“Yeah,” Zeb huffed out, pretty worn out himself. 

None of them had a wink of sleep that night, their red, swollen eyes burning under the starry sky. Yellow eyes haunted Kanan all night, and many nights there after, flashing with deep hatred. Hatred directed to him, a teacher - a father - that had failed.

___

Ezra watched as the landspeeder slipped away into the shadows of the night before turning around to pick up his now broken lightsaber. The Inquisitor would not be pleased he thought to himself as he examined the emitter which had been cleanly cut through. Ezra’s gaze then fell on the helmet that laid on the ground, shattered. 

He heard approaching footsteps but did not turn his gaze away to see who it was; he already knew. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. Ezra was too afraid to turn around and see the displeasure on the Inquisitor’s face. He had failed and the last time he had failed, Vader had made sure to teach him a lesson he would always remember. Just the mere thought sent a violent shudder through Ezra’s body, one that he could barely suppress.

“I see the Jedi along with the rebels got away,” the Inquisitor said, his voice did not betray any emotion, but Ezra knew he was livid. “It would seem that I had thought too highly of your capabilities as an inquisitor and a fighter. You could not even keep your lightsaber in one piece… how  _ pathetic _ .”

Ezra gritted his teeth together, stopping himself from saying anything that he would regret. He knew where this would lead, it was inevitable and he did not need to make it worse than it would be. Of course, he also knew that it was something he deserved, after all, it was him who had failed at this mission.

Steeling his nerves, Ezra turned around to look his master straight into his glaring eyes. He licked his dry lips before speaking. “Yes, Master. I will graciously accept any punishment.”

“Hmm,” the Inquisitor hummed, pleased at Ezra’s acceptance. “That will have to wait until we reach back to the Imperial Complex.” He turned to the squad of troopers that had accompanied him, “Search and secure the perimeter of the city and send a few scouts out to the neighbouring villages. I want everyone on alert.”

The stormtroopers saluted and headed out to do as they were told. Ezra took one last glance at the helmet which he left on the ground before turning to follow his master to the landspeeder, gripping onto his broken lightsaber as if his life depended on it. He shifted awkwardly in his seat and his stomach knotted knowing what would await him at their destination. 

_ It’s what I deserve _ Ezra told himself, attempting to calm his nerves. But then it occurred to him that it was not necessarily the punishment itself that was causing Ezra’s discomfort. It was something that Kanan said. He did not allow himself to think too deeply during their confrontation as it would only serve to distract him from his goals, and quite frankly, he did not want to listen. But now the words were echoing in his mind like a broken record, one that Ezra could not block out.

_ ‘I thought you were dead’ _ was what Kanan had told him. Ezra was not sure whether the Jedi meant that he thought Ezra had died by the hands of the Inquisitor before or after Kanan ran away. Perhaps afterwards Ezra told himself although not entirely convinced as that would not explain why he had refused to strike Ezra down then and there. He had his chance; Ezra’s lightsaber was broken and was helpless. The thought made Ezra uncomfortable because it was not so much the words themselves that struck him… it was the voice. 

Kanan had sounded so broken, not at all like someone who had wanted Ezra dead.

“Something’s on your mind,” the Inquisitor said suddenly, pulling Ezra from his whirlwind of thoughts. He must have dropped his shields while being lost in his own mind.

“I… well, there was something that Jarrus said that bothered me,” Ezra hesitated, and turned to face away from the Inquisitor, vaguely staring at the lights and shadows of buildings that they drove by.

“And that was?” The Inquisitor baited after Ezra fell silent for too long. 

“He told me that he thought I had died… before he ran away,” the last part was not specifically told by Kanan, but Ezra reluctantly came to the conclusion that was most likely what the Jedi meant by his statement if his voice and reaction was anything to go by.

He was taken aback when the Inquisitor laughed, and not the mocking kind he usually made that made Ezra feel dumb. “I would have never thought that the Jedi would attempt at deceiving you,” he said when he finally stopped laughing. Ezra blushed in embarrassment that he had not thought of that possibility. 

“That would make sense,” he mumbled out, “But I just don’t understand why…”

“Perhaps the Jedi is too much of a coward to kill you and sought mercy from you, or perhaps it was a cruel way of deceiving his opponent into a false hope of security before striking him down… or perhaps it was to deceive you into turning against your master.”

All three answers made sense as to why a person would deceive someone, but for some reason, none of them were truly believable in regards to Kanan. It was as if some nagging feeling told Ezra that there was something more going on, something that he was yet aware of, something horrible and dark. He pushed it away, unwilling to confront the feeling, scared that he would uncover a terrible truth. 

“Yes, perhaps,” Ezra replied eventually, his mind distant. “You are right, Master. Only, it would never work… I have sworn my loyalty to the Empire.”

They fell into a silence, and Ezra did not feel the need to break it. He was afraid that if he did at this moment, he would confess a horrible mistake he had made, one that would only make his punishment much worse. Back during his confrontation with Kanan, he had done the one thing he least expected to do: he hesitated. 

It was embarrassing that he had hesitated after two years of wanting to get revenge, and when the moment finally presented itself, he faltered for some unknown reasons. Before he could mull over it any longer, the landspeeder slowed down. They had arrived at the Imperial Complex and now he would have to face the consequences of his failures.

A day had passed with no luck of locating the rebels. Ezra stared out his window, watching as the setting sun casted the city in a warm glow. It almost looked serene, though Ezra could not say the same about himself. He was anxiously awaiting in hopes to get news that they had spotted Kanan in hopes of redeeming himself.

Of course, his punishment had already passed, leaving his body with bruises and angry welts. But he ignored the pain as he hugged himself, feeling suddenly cold despite the warmth of the sun. Ezra was just happy that he did not have to face Vader for the punishment, and the fact that he still had his left hand at least.

Sighing, Ezra turned away from the window, looking at his room casted in a cool shadow. He sat down on his bed and leaned forward onto his knees, his back aching at the strain. Ezra felt so exhausted, so defeated, but knew he could not lose hope for having his revenge. Another opportunity would surely present itself.

His commlink beeped and Ezra’s heart skipped a beat. He answered it quickly.

“Good news I presume, Agent Kallus?” There was an awkward moment of silence, and Ezra's heart dropped. 

“No,” Kallus replied, his voice grim. “The rebels have escaped Lothal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably the most difficult chapter to write, other than coming up with the ending which took me 8 months haha.  
> Next chapter will be lighter and different.


	18. Chasing a Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra chases a shadow with the Twelfth Sister

The bright lights of holo advertisements lit up the city in an array of colours, almost overwhelming Ezra’s senses. The streets were so crowded and the sky had more vehicles than all vehicles on Lothal together. Nar Shaddaa, the city of scum and villainy alike, really was something different.

But Ezra was not here for sightseeing.

Nor was he here to hunt Jarrus, even if he desperately wished it was so. Their last encounter had not gone to plan, leaving Ezra frustrated and confused. No, this was a retrieval mission, and not the usual one of seeking out Force-sensitives and ensuring they would never grow to be Jedi. This mission was the retrieval of information, or more specifically, the information of someone particular. The Shadow.

Thus far, the trail had been cold but the Twelfth Sister had managed to discover a lead after scouring many places, and so, here Ezra was with her on the largest moon of Nal Hutta. It was the first time working with another inquisitor other than the Grand Inquisitor as well as finally getting to speak with the Twelfth Sister.

She certainly was not as creepy as the Seventh Sister, who was of the same species, but that did not mean any less attitude. 

“Come on, Kid. Just because you are the Inquisitor’s pet, does not mean you can just stand there all day,” she snidely remarked and Ezra turned to glare at her. He knew he should not get distracted by the city lights and surroundings, but he was like a moth captivated by the luminosity of neon signs. Of course, that was as far as the beauty of this moon went. 

“I’m _not_ the Inquisitor’s pet,” Ezra retorted as he caught up to the Twelfth Sister. 

“Whatever you say,” she shrugged his attitude off as she walked towards the perfect place to gather information. The catina. It was their third one with so far having no luck. Hopefully, this time it would be worth their time. 

The patrons paid them no attention as they entered the bustling place and made their way to the bar that stood in the far back of the room. There were all sorts of activities happening; people gathered around tables playing sabacc; the loud chit-chatter over drinks, some having had one too many; Twi’leks dancing to the jazzy tune in the background. The latter made Ezra blush and he glanced away from the barely dressed ladies. 

The bartender, a red Devaronian male, regarded the newcomers with a weary glare. “What can I do for you?” He asked, his tone lacking any pleasantry.

“Getting straight to the point, I like that,” the Twelfth Sister said, smirking. “I am looking for information.”

“Hm,” the bartender made a disapproving sound. “I thought as much. Look, we don’t give information out here.”

The Devaronian gasped when he was pulled over the counter and straight into the hands of the Twelfth Sister. The patrons stopped what they were doing and watched the commotion, a few reaching for their blasters, ready to take action. Ezra stiffened, he had only ever been to Old Jho’s tavern back on Lothal and even there it never got this tense when fishing for information. 

“You  _ will _ give us the information we are looking for.”

“You can’t expect to get information by roughing me up,” the bartender spat out, still acting stubborn. There was a warning in the back of Ezra’s mind and he activated his lightsaber to redirect two blast shots. One in which hit the shooter, and then the other blast hitting the wall. There were a few gasps and nervous whispers amongst the patrons at the sight of the red blade.

“I consider you to rethink your response,” the Twelfth Sister said, her fingernails biting into the bartender’s neck.

“Okay, okay!” He choked out and gasped for air when she lessened her grip. “Just tell me what kind of information you want and then get out of here!”

“We are looking for someone by the name of Maul.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I never heard of that name before.” When the Twelfth Sister started tightening her grip, the bartender’s face contorted to one of fear. “I swear! I’ve never heard anybody with that name!”

She regarded him with disgust, throwing him back and he lost his balance, stumbling to the ground. “Useless,” she snarled and turned to stalk out of the bar. Ezra gave one last glance at the bartender and the staring patrons before following the Mirialan out. 

“Should we try another cantina?” Ezra proposed when he caught up. 

“No, I suggest we split up,” she said, bringing her hand up in thought. “That way we can cover more ground and have a higher chance of finding a trail.”

Ezra nodded in agreement. That would be more efficient, and although he did not know the city itself, he knew how to think like a thief and a con-artist, having been one himself years ago. It was only that this  _ entire _ moon was a city of smugglers and criminals alike. 

“Okay, then I will start with the lower levels,” he said. 

They parted ways and Ezra walked towards the taxi area. He had no airspeeder of his own and would have to rent one. That was an easy enough task and the droid driver started to take him down below the bright lights. The trip was not long, and Ezra soon found himself at his destination.

The lower levels lost the allure of the neon lights, fading to the realities of the moon; nothing but greys and shadows, filled with poverty and despair. Ezra tread through the streets, asking away at anyone who looked suspicious enough. But nobody seemed know anything about this Zabrak he spoke of and it was starting to get on his nerves. Ezra had never been the patient type - waiting this long to fight Kanan was agony enough - and he wanted nothing more than to get off this dump.

The fact that it felt as if someone was watching him did little to help, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Ezra shrugged it off as nothing more than the atmosphere of the slums, not able to see anyone. After what seemed to be hours of searching, Ezra found himself lost in a maze of damp alleyways.

He froze when rodents scurried over his feet before disappearing into the shadows. “ _ Kriff _ ,” he cursed under his breath. Ezra then silently chided himself for allowing such measly creatures to frighten him. A part of him wished that he had stayed on the upper levels and let the Twelfth Sister to comb through this dump hole instead. But it was too late now and complaining would not do anything to make the situation better. 

Sighing, he continued to walk down the alleyway, his footsteps echoing with every step. He pretended that every water puddle was just that - water - and ignored the wretched stench. Soon enough he came out to a sort square, one filled with people and he scoured the area to spot anyone that looked like they could be the right target. 

Most of the people were refugees, nothing special, and decided to prowl along the shadows. There was a burly looking man, with scars along his face. It seemed like the right place to start off, better than continuing to walk aimlessly. 

Ezra made his way to the man who leaned against a graffitied wall and the man scowl deepened when he saw Ezra approaching. He spat out his cigarette, stomping it out with his foot. “Whaddya want, kid?” He asked in Huttese, his voice deep and rugged. 

Ezra ignored the kid-part. “Do you know a Zabrack by the name Maul?”

The man clucked his tongue. “Don’t know ‘em. Now if ya know what’s best for ya, then scram.”

“Then would you know someone who would know a red Zabrack with black tattoos?” Ezra persisted, ignoring the attitude the man gave him. There was a flicker in the man’s eyes but it was gone before Ezra could think too much about it. The man leaned in close, his breath of smoke fanning over Ezra’s face.

“Listen here, Kid, don’t put yer nose in places ya don’t understand. Now  _ scram _ , ya rat.”

The man gave a choked cry when he was thrown back against the wall, his fingers desperately attempting to loosen the grip on his throat that was not even physically there. Ezra’s glare deepened. _Kid_ was one thing, but _rat_ was another.

“Listen here, kung, tell me what you know of this Zabrack.”

“I-I,” the man wheezed out, his face turning purple. Ezra slightly lessened the grip and the man took greats gulps of air, coughing. “I don’t know anything! I’ve seen a Zabrak of that description once, many many years ago, but I swear, I don’t know anything!”

“Then direct me to someone who does!”

“I-” the man’s eyes widened and his body went limp in Ezra’s Force grip. Someone had blasted the man right between his eyes and Ezra’s eyes followed the trajectory of the blast to see a shadowy figure with a sniper from one of the buildings’ windows. Releasing the dead man, Ezra ran, pushing passersby as he attempted to catch up to the sniper in time who had withdrawn from the window. Having no time to look for the door to the building and then navigating his way through its corridors, he jumped using the Force to reach the open window on the sixth floor. 

The sniper, of course, had already fled the room and Ezra could hear its footsteps echoing down the corridor. Whoever this sniper person was, must know something about Maul, and therefore, Ezra could not afford to allow it out of his sights. When Ezra ran down the darkened halls, the footsteps had stopped and Ezra slowed down his pace. 

The feeling from the alleyway had returned, this time more intensely and Ezra knew that this time, he was definitely not making it up. The sniper was watching him, and so must be close. He stretched out with the Force, his invisible fingers attempting to feel for the sniper’s presence. Then everything went black.

Ezra groaned, his head throbbing and this situation starting to feel all too familiar. Opening his eyes, he found himself hanging from chains in the centre of a dingy room. The chains pulled at the sore skin of his back and at that moment Ezra was grateful that it was the Inquisitor and not Vader that saw to his punishment for the escape of the Jedi and the rebels. Otherwise, he was certain that he would be in a lot more pain, having more than a few lashes, burns and bruises and probably less limbs. 

His feet hovered slightly above the ground and he attempted to ground himself by extending his toes so that he may relieve some of the ache in his arms. But it was to no avail when he managed to only brush the floor with the tip of his boots. Giving up, Ezra decided to study the room, perhaps find some clues as to where he was and more importantly, who his captor was. 

There was not much to look at other than a few random crates stacked upon one another in a corner here and there. It looked as if it was some type of abandoned warehouse, the windows being boarded from the inside. Ezra smiled when he saw a glistering object on top of one of the crates, something that could possibly be of use to cut the chains and he stretched out into the Force only to find that he couldn’t. His smile vanished, turning into a frown when he realised that whoever had taken him was prepared to deal with Force-sensitives. 

A door hissed open and a shadowy figure walked in. It was the sniper from before. The alien had chalky white skin, almost ghost-like against the stark black clothing, and its frame was lanky with long bony fingers that protruded from the gloves it wore, almost needle-like. It shoved its goggles up onto its bald head, revealing glistering brown eyes that regarded Ezra like prey.

Ezra scowled at the alien. He believed it to be a Palliduvan, although he only heard of the alien species through stories from visiting bounty hunters back on Lothal. The infamous Aurra Sing was a Palliduvan. 

“What do you want?” He asked, getting straight to the point. The Palliduvan only smiled as it walked around Ezra. Upon closer inspection, Ezra saw his lightsaber hilt attached to the Palliduvan’s belt, making his blood boil. That was  _ his _ lightsaber.

“Ah, yes,” a deep voice said. It was a he, Ezra noted. “Your lightsaber would make a good money on the blackmarket… as would you.”

His bony fingers grabbed Ezra’s chin, studying his face. “But first… I require information. You see, I heard that you were looking for a specific Zabrak - the one named  _ Maul _ .”

Ezra pulled his face away, glaring at the man. “Is that why you shot the man? Cause he knew something about Maul?”

“No.”

Ezra frowned, and then it clicked. “You shot him to get my attention.”

The Palliduvan only smiled in response, and Ezra inwardly cursed. It had been a trap, and he fell for it. Still, it may still fall to his benefit. “Then you must know something,” he concluded. “Why else would you want to lure me away from the crowd and into conditions that you can control.”

“Perhaps,” was the vague answer. “Or perhaps I merely wanted to make some good money. After all, Force users are quite the rarity these days.”

“Who are you? Some kind of bounty hunter?”

“I was once part of the great Crimson Dawn, and now… now, I am presented with a great opportunity to rebuild it. One in which  _ I _ am the leader.”

The Crimson Dawn. Ezra did not know much about it, only hearing whispers of its name in the shadowy parts of Capital City back on Lothal. It was once a great crime syndicate, feared in the Outer Rim before reducing to nothing more than ashes. “Who was the previous leader?”

“That is of no importance,” the Palliduvan said. “The past is the past, and the future, well, the future has many great opportunities in store for me.” 

He walked towards the stack of crates and reached for something. A hypospray, and Ezra could only assume it was meant to drug him. “Your buyers will be here any moment. I suppose I should prepare you.”

Ezra gritted his teeth, and pulled against the chains despite the strain it caused on his arms and back. It was no use and he knew he would not be able to get free. He was too weak and careless, having gotten into this situation in the first place and now could not get out of it.

Damn it all! He could not fail here and now, not when he still had not had his revenge, to see Kanan perish by his hands. It all seemed more like a fleeting dream, one in which he could not grasp as the Palliduvan neared with the hypospray. Ezra’s heart pounded and he screwed his eyes shut. 

He did not want to be sold as if he was some type of cattle, never to see his master again or the death of Kanan. The Paliduvan was about to lift the hypospray when Ezra kicked out with his feet, causing the alien to stumble back with a grunt. He hissed in annoyance at Ezra and took a device from his belt, pressing a button.

The Paliduvan smirked as he watched Ezra writhe in pain and electrical shocks traveled down the chains, zapping the inquisitor. He screamed from the sensation as the shocks continued for what seemed forever, but in reality was merely thirty seconds. They stopped and Ezra blinked a few times, realising he was not back in the interrogation chair in Fortress Inquisitorius. 

“Now,” the Paliduvan said, satisfied. “Let’s try that again.”

He lifted the hypospray up again and Ezra had no energy left to kick, his muscles still twitching involuntarily from the electricity. Before the Paliduvan could inject whatever drug was in the hypospray, he was pushed back by an invisible Force. Ezra turned his throbbing head to the side. 

“Twelfth Sister?”

The Mirialan smirked at Ezra as she walked over to them, the Paliduvan scrambling up to his feet. “Good job luring the target out, Kid. I guess you’re not bad after all for being the Grand Inquisitor’s pet.”

Ezra gaped at her.  _ This _ was all part of her plan? “How long were you here??”

“Long enough to enjoy the show.” Ezra scowled at the response. Of course the Twelfth Sister saved him only  _ after _ being shocked by electricity. 

Before the Paliduvan could escape, he was pulled into the open hand of the Twelfth Sister. His eyes widened in fear as he gripped at her arms. 

“Tell me where Maul is and you may just live,” she said, her lips curling back into a cruel smile. The alien gurgled, unable to produce words and the Mirialan threw him to the ground. She took out one of her lightsabers and held the blade dangerously close to the neck.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” The Paliduvan choked out, coughing as he attempted to regain his breath all the while attempting to avoid the hot blade. “I don’t know who this Maul is.”

The Twelfth Sister brought the blade even closer. “Try again.”

“I…!” He attempted again but the warning look in her eyes made the words dry up on the tip of his tongue. “Alright! Alright! I’ll talk! I don’t know much - I swear! Only that Maul was the leader of Crimson Dawn and that near the end, he lost his mind! The Zabrak is crazy, I swear. Rambling on about some weapon of mass destruction… some, uh, kind of temple! I don’t know where he went, I swear it!”

The Twelfth Sister seemed to stiffen as if knowing that the Paliduvan was rambling on about. She frowned and pulled away, making the alien sigh in relief. 

“So… uh, since I had given what you wanted, I’m free to go right? I’m sorry about capturing your, uh, buddy… I won’t do it again, I swear!” He pleaded desperately. 

“No,” she agreed, smiling. “No, you won’t.”

The Palliduvan’s eyes widened in fear as the Mirialan pulled back her blade, his scream cut off short as his head rolled off his neck and onto the ground with a dull thud. The Twelfth Sister then turned her attention to Ezra who still hung painfully from the chains.

“Are you finally going to take me out of these chains?” He asked.

“Hmm, I think they rather suit you well,” she mocked, but sliced through them nonetheless. Ezra fell forward, no longer being held against gravity and he rubbed his sore arms before calling his lightsaber towards him from the dead alien. 

“I’m assuming that you know this place that he spoke of?” Ezra asked, choosing to ignore the comment she made. 

“Yes,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “The temple he described is a Sith Temple on Malachor. Maul must know of the artifact.”

“So… are we going there?”

“Our other Brothers and Sister are closer to the planet than we are,” the Twelfth Sister said as she took out her mini holoprojector. It flickered to life, showing the Seventh Sister.

“Twelfth Sister,” the other Mirialan said, her voice lacking all pleasantry. “What news do you bring?”

“I have located the Shadow. He is on Malachor, and he knows of the weapon,” she replied. “I would suggest taking Eighth and Fifth Brothers along with you.”

“Do you think me incapable?” Her voice lowered with annoyance. 

“No. I just think that the Shadow should not be underestimated. Especially having avoided our radar for this long.” 

The Seventh Sister made a sound of discontent but did not argue any further. “Fine, we will depart for Malachor now.”

The holoprojector died down, leaving on Ezra and the Twelfth Sister alone. “Come, I am sure the Grand Inquisitor is eager to have his pet back.”

Ezra scowled but said nothing as he followed her out of the warehouse. It was in an area he did not recognise and wondered how long he had been unconscious for as he rubbed the small bump on the back of his head. It stung at his touch and he removed his hand. 

On their walk, the glistering of metal caught his eye and he found himself staring at the Twelfth Sister’s lightsabers in curiosity. They weren’t the typical ringed inquisitor lightsabers, and instead she had two lightsabers with a curved hilts. The Twelfth Sister saw him staring at them and gave him a pointed look.

“What?” She asked.

“The Inquisitor said during Order 66, taking you out from the prison,” Ezra said. “Were these your lightsabers from before prison?”

“You could say that,” she smirked. Ah, so not actually hers initially.

“You killed a Jedi for them and that was why you were imprisoned?”

“Have you not paid attention at all to the Inquisitor’s ‘sob’ life story?” She rolled her eyes and Ezra scowled. 

“Well, he did not mention you specifically during the story,” he countered, annoyed by the Twelfth Sister. “Only that he recruited you from prison during the Jedi Purge.”

“The Inquisitor’s pet clearly lacks brains, but at least you make up for it with skill,” she said, unimpressed. “Have you not heard of the Jedi Temple Bombing?”

“Ah,” Ezra said rather dumbly, finally connecting the dots. “You’re the bomber then.”

“Yes.” Her smirk returned. “Very good deduction skills.”

Ezra almost wished he hadn’t bothered asking if he knew he was just going to be mocked. If only he had this mission with the Inquisitor instead it would have saved him from a headache. Fortunately, this mission was drawing to an end and hopefully, it would be the last mission he would have with the Twelfth Sister. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know I had fun writing it, listening to cantina songs from SWTOR for the mood.


	19. Through Unseeing Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanan learns to stop running from the past.

Atollon glowed in soft hues of pink as the sun lowered beneath the coral-like horizon, not that Kanan could see it. But he could feel the shift in the warmth of the planet and had already seen a few sunsets on this planet before. Chopper had discovered it after running into an old Republic inventory droid on an Imperial cargo freighter during their search for a base for the growing Rebel Alliance. 

The inhabitants consisted of spiders, the krykna, who were not so welcoming and a few of their comrades had unfortunately met their ends by these creatures. Thankfully, the problem was solved with sensor beacons which they placed around Chopper Base, named in honour of Chopper for finding Atollon, and the krykna had let them be since then. The other creatures, the ones climbing over Kanan as he meditated at the edge of the base, were harmless dokma, shelled little critters.

As he sat cross legged, ignoring the dokma currently on his shoulder and the hissing of the prowling krykna, he reflected over the past few weeks. It had been a hectic time since the unveiling of the Thirteenth Brother’s identity, which Kanan still had troubles coming to terms with. Not that he had much time to sit down and digest the information after being sent to find a planet for the rebel base, which was then followed by a personal mission with Ahsoka.

The grip on his knees tightened at the remembrance of the mission. It had been a terrible experience. 

When he had time to settle down and ponder on Ezra and the inquisitors, Kanan had sought out for knowledge. The type of knowledge that could aid them in destroying the Sith and the Inquisitorius. After digging around and encountering Master Yoda in a Force vision, their hunt had led them to the desolate planet of Malachor. 

Kanan had hoped that by discovering the way to destroy the Sith, he would be able to free Ezra from their cold claws. Instead, all he had found was nothing but death and destruction amongst the ashes of the Sith Temple. The petrified bodies of Jedi and Sith alike scattered the ground in an endless battle, and there, they encountered a new inquisitor. The Eighth Brother. 

Only this inquisitor had not been expecting Kanan or Ahsoka, hunting another target instead by the name of ‘The Shadow’. The Shadow had later revealed himself as none other than Maul. Kanan had never met or seen Maul before, only hearing his name mentioned in the briefing just before the end of the Clone Wars and the collapse of the Republic. And by this time, the Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother had joined the Eighth Brother in their fight against them. 

Needless to say, Kanan felt relieved that Ezra had not been one of the inquisitors sent after Maul. He doubted that the former Sith would have shown any mercy towards Ezra even if Kanan had pleaded seeing how swiftly Maul ended the other inquisitors. The thought of Ezra dying before Kanan could attempt to save him twisted his insides.

After the deaths of the inquisitors, everything went downhill. The temporary alliance between Maul and the Jedi quickly evaporated when Maul extended his hand out in invitation for them to join the fight against Vader by unlocking the Sith Temple and taking the knowledge from within. Neither Ahsoka or Kanan would use the dark side to open the temple, even if it meant acquiring the key to destroying the Sith for good. Maul did not take the refusal well.

Kanan reached up and gently stroked the mask that covered his unseeing eyes. The pain still lingered, even after three weeks although not as unbearable as when it first happened. There had been no warning, only a red light before an eternal blanket of darkness settled. He was just grateful that Ahsoka was there to stop Maul before he could have finished the job.

The Zabrak had then vanished, retreating into the shadows and Ahsoka had helped Kanan, offering him the remnants of a Jedi Temple Guard's mask. Despite the pain, they had agreed that they must destroy the temple before the Empire could get their hands on it, learning from Maul when he had a slip of a tongue that it doubled as a battle station. They placed detonators along each tier of the temple, but when they were near the top, they were already too late. Vader had arrived.

His stomach knotted and he suppressed a shiver at the remembrance of the Sith Lord. He doubted he could ever forget an aura so cold, so twisted in pain and hatred to the point that it was almost suffocating. 

Ahsoka took it upon herself to confront Vader, giving time for Kanan to plant the last few detonators and when they had been set, the worst happened. Never had he wanted to leave another friend behind, to fail again in protecting them, but he could do nothing when Ahsoka pushed him away from the fight with the Force. Could do nothing when he stumbled onto the _Phantom_ and could do nothing to stop Ahsoka from pressing the detonation button. 

The explosion was unmistakable, the loud booming sound echoed through the cavern that enclosed the temple and Kanan could feel the vibrations of the shock through the air as Chopper flew the _Phantom_ away. The Sith temple collapsed, swallowing Vader and Ahsoka in its rocky grave. 

Now, Kanan was left with no Ahsoka, no answers to destroying the Sith and the Inquisitorius, and no eyesight, only having Chopper or the others to guide him around the base. The thought made him tremble with anger at his helplessness. Again, he had been too weak and had lost another friend because of it.

“Agh!” He yelled out in frustration, causing the dokmas that crowded him to crawl away in fright. Kanan inwardly chided at himself for losing his cool and took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. It had all become too much over the past two and a half years.

First losing Ezra because he could not protect him from the Grand Inquisitor, only to find out that his dead Padawan was not dead. And now Ezra despised Kanan to the point of hunting him down and even choking him, even if he had hesitated at the moment. There was no denying that Ezra had completely embraced the dark side, going through unspeakable pain during the process, and all because Kanan could not protect him.

And now, now it was the same case with Ahsoka. Instead of helping fend off Vader, Kanan ended up blind and helpless, leaving Ahsoka to her fate. 

“Karabast,” Kanan hissed, clenching his sweaty palms. 

_Emotion, yet peace._

_Ignorance, yet knowledge._

_Passion, yet serenity._

_Chaos, yet harmony._

_Death, yet the Force._

That was the mantra he recited as a Padawan and it had always brought some sense of calmness. But now it offered nothing, no matter how many times he repeated to himself. No sense of peace, no dispelling of the anger swirling inside of him, leaving him frustrated that he could not move forward.

“I see you,” a voice called out, breaking Kanan’s trance. 

His eyes snapped open only to be reminded he could not see, and he moved his head slightly in the direction where the voice came from. It sounded distant, like a voice that was carried from afar on the desert winds. Perhaps Kanan was finally losing it and it was only a figment of his imagination - blame it on stress.

“I see you,” the voice said again, and now Kanan knew for certain he had not made it up. “Come to me.”

Kanan slowly got up from his kneeling position, feeling his muscles aching from having been in one position too long. He took a hesitant step forward before stopping. All his life he had been running away - from the truth, from the pain, and it was so tiring. _No more_ , he thought with clenched fists before taking another step forward, this time with renewed resolve as he grabbed a sensor beacon. 

The voice called to him, and he had felt no malice from it. It must be the will of the Force, why else could he be hearing voices in his mind? 

Kanan ignored the hissing krykna as he walked past them, repelled by the beacon in his hand as he continued his way through the Atollon coral mesa. He paused for a moment, uncertain as to which direction to go when he heard a Convor cry above him. Those were the birds that always seemed to be around Ahsoka, and he took it as a sign and followed the direction in which the bird flew off to.

Eventually he had reached what felt like a clearing and knew instinctively that this was the right place.

“Hello? Are you there?” He called out, but no one answered. “I can sense your presence.”

There was a loud rumbling sound and Kanan felt the ground shake. He quickly turned to where he assumed the presence he was searching for was. Whoever this was, their presence was odd, unlike anything he had felt before. 

“You heard my call, good,” the creature said, his voice deep and knowing. “Your imbalance woke me from a deep slumber.”

“Imbalance?” Kanan echoed. Did the creature mean he could sense his emotions? 

“Your presence is like a violent storm in this quiet world,” the creature said. 

“You’re a Force wielder,” Kanan was taken back by surprise. “But you’re not a Jedi.”

“Wielder? Hmm,” the voice pondered on the interesting thought. “Jedi and Sith wield the Ashla and Bogan; the light and the dark. I’m the one in the middle, the Bendu. What do you call yourself?”

“I am Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight,” he introduced himself, although he did not feel like a Jedi Knight. If anything, he felt more like a fraud. 

“You carry conflict with you, Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight,” Bendu commented and Kanan let out a shaky breath, wondering if he should share his predicament with the stranger. However, feeling no ill-will or danger, he decided it would be safe enough to indulge the creature.

“I… I, well,” he paused, uncertain as to how to phrase what he was feeling. “I haven’t been myself lately,” he decided. It was vague and a safe start. 

“Yes, much self-doubt and anger within you. Why is that, Kanan?”

Kanan swallowed, his mouth suddenly turning as dry as the air on Atollon. “I had a Padawan… a boy who I took in under my wing. Only, I failed to protect him,” he began, remembering Stygeon Prime. “An enemy - a darksider - struck him down before I could do anything and then… I ran after failing to retrieve his body.”

He paused, feeling a renewed hot shame wash over him. 

“Hmm, go on,” Bendu said, encouraging for Kanan to continue with his tale. 

“I… I honestly had thought he was dead, I mean, I felt it in the Force,” Kanan stammered out, feeling the guilt rise. “But then, I came across this darksider, and when he revealed his face… it was my Padawan.”

“Ah, now that does sound complicated,” Bendu made a sound of deep thought. “If you had thought your Padawan died after seeing it happen, how could you have known any better, hmm?”

“Cause it was my duty to protect him, after all he was like a… like a son to me.”

“That does not mean you have failed, Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight. It is what you do with the given information that determines if you have failed yourself or not.”

“Failing myself - what? This is about my Padawan! I have failed _him_ ,” Kanan’s brows furrowed.

“You cannot control the path that others choose to walk down on, you can only control how you react and whether or not you accept the choices they have made.”

“But Ezra was never given the choice of becoming an inquisitor! His hand is missing for Force’s sake!” The thought of Ezra being tortured into submission and doing whatever awful things the Emperor told him to do made Kanan sick. “I couldn’t protect him when he needed me the most, and I couldn’t stop the Inquisitor from hurting him.”

He knew he was running in circles, refusing to admit that he could not have done anything else. Just seeing what had happened to Ezra, what he had become had sent Kanan into a turmoil. 

“If you ever want the conflict within you to cease, then you must see what you are refusing to accept,” said Bendu and before Kanan could open his mouth to make a remark about the ability of ‘seeing’, the creature continued. “That device in the ground, why do you have it?”

It took a moment for Kanan to realise what he was asking about, the subject seemingly unrelated to their conversation but felt somewhat grateful for the topic change nonetheless. “Uh, this,” he waved to where he knew the sensor beacon to be. “It keeps the spiders from attacking me.”

“May I see it?” Bendu asked, and Kanan nodded. He thought nothing of it until he heard a snapping sound and panic swelled within him.

“Hey! What did you do?!” He exclaimed angrily as he crawled on his knees in search for the beacon only to find the two pieces and knew it was beyond repair, having no tools at hand or the eyesight to do so.

“I am helping you,” Bendu countered, sounding nonchalant about the situation. 

“ _Helping me?!_ ” Kanan echoed, tightening the grip on the metal rods. “It was the only thing protecting me from those creatures!”

“You believe that, but you must learn to see things differently now.”

It had not been a change of topic Kanan realised, but that did not make him any less upset. “Look,” Kanan began, feeling suddenly drained of energy as he reached up to touch his mask. “I can’t see anything… not anymore.”

“No,” Bendu disagreed. “You are _unwilling_.”

Kanan bit his lip, did that mean - “Are you saying there’s a way to restore my vision?”

“Your sight cannot be healed, but I can teach you to see. If you are willing.”

He felt slightly embarrassed to have dared hope that there was a way to restore his vision, but decided that it was better than nothing and worth a shot. “What must I do? Tell me… how do I restore my sight?”

“You must be empty. There is only the Force,” Bendu instructed and that seemed relatively easy enough. After all, it was what he had been taught to do all his life in the Jedi Temple, but that was a time long ago. Kanan took a deep breath and attempted to empty his mind as much as possible, unable to rid of all its static. “Now turn and walk forward.”

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” but did what he was asked nonetheless. He knew it was childish to continuously resist the help he was receiving and he did not understand why he was acting like that in the first place; too scared to even attempt to peer at what was inside.

“And why not?” Bendu asked patiently.

“Because the spiders are out there, waiting,” he gestured to the wastelands before him. Kanan knew that the Krykna were there, especially now that the sensor beacon was gone. Though how close they were, he could not tell.

“How do you know this?”

“I hear them,” he sighed. It was true, he could hear the clicking of their mandibles and the shuffling of their walks. 

“Good, keep walking,” Bendu instructed and Kanan took a few hesitant steps. “Sound relates to them to you. What else?”

“I can feel them in the ground, their vibrations when they move.” He used the Force to enhance his other senses now that he could not see, but it was… muddled.

“Indeed, you are perceptive. Are they close?” Bendu asked with amusement. 

Kanan stopped, suddenly feeling hesitant. “No.”

“Continue on then. How else do you relate to the spiders?” 

“Before, in the caves, a foul smell. It was old, decayed,” he described, remembering when they had first come to Atollon and explored the caves. The stench had been nearly unbearable.

“Ah, a fascinating description. You see much for being blind.” The comment made the Jedi feel annoyed, as if rubbing salt into the open wound.

Kanan scoffed, he had not always been blind. “Well, I know what they look like. I saw them when I had my sight”

“Then picture them in your mind,” Bendu suggested. “Are they close?”

“No.” He said it with somewhat more confidence than before. Surely if they were close, then he would have already been attacked, right?

“Are you certain?” Bendu asked.

Doubt blossomed and suddenly he did not feel so certain anymore. Hesitantly, Kanan reached out with his hand and recoiled when he felt the rough surface that he knew was the armored plating of a krykna. He took a half step back, his heart racing and his breath laboured as fear took hold of him as the krykna hissed at him. 

“What should I do?” He breathed out, his hand slowly reaching out towards his weapon.

“What do you want to do, hmm?” 

“Run,” Kanan whispered. He loathed that word. The very same word that his Master had told him during Order 66, and it was something he had done ever since. Running away from painful situations, unwilling to see the truth and to face them. Kanan swallowed, and forced his muscles to slightly relax. “But there’s another one right behind me.” 

“You are beginning to see. Ha!” Bendu exclaimed, excited that they were now making progress. “Now, be empty and continue onward.”

Kanan stood still for a moment, puzzled. If the spiders had been this close to him the entire time, then how come he was still alive? “Why aren’t they attacking me?”

“It is not in their nature.”

“Well, it has been in my experience,” Kanan scoffed. They had lost a few good soldiers to them when they first scouted the area. 

“Because you do not _see_ them.” 

It was now starting to come together. Bendu had never meant ‘seeing’ as in eyesight like Kanan had thought initially. “You mean, see them for what they are?”

“Look closer,” Bendu coaxed.

“There’s nothing!” Kanan grew frustrated after attempting for a few seconds. He knew they were there, and yet, “I can’t sense them.”

“Look _within_.”

_Empty your mind… Emotion, yet peace…_

Kanan let out a deep breath of air and moved his hand closer towards the hissing spider. He could suddenly feel them, the empty void that had been there previously was now filled with... “Fear… I see fear.”

“In the spiders?”

“No,” Kanan whispered, “In me…” His heart started to race again, and the palms of his hand grew sweaty at the realisation. “Fear, grief, anger - that’s how they see _me_ ,” he paused to put together the last pieces of the puzzle. “That’s how I see myself.”

“Ah, your sight returns,” Bendu chuckled.

“I distanced myself from everyone, from the Force, too.” As soon as Kanan admitted that aloud, the anger, grief, and fear dissipated and all he felt was the sudden warmth of the Force once again, flowing through him without any obstacles to obscure its flow. 

He felt at peace again, as if centred for the first time in a long time and now he could see everything through the Force.

It was not the same as when he had his vision. The world consisted of shadowy figures, no details, but enough to see where everything was and their distances. Kanan could see the krykna standing before him, clicking its mandible slightly but not attacking. Turning around, he could see Bendu’s form; a large beast with long strands of hair and on top of his head were the same formations of the coral that could be seen all around Atollon. 

“Your connection to the Force allows you to see in ways others cannot. If you can see yourself, you will never be truly blind, Kannan Jarrus, Jedi Knight,” Bendu said, and Kanan felt immensely grateful towards Bendu. 

He had not realised that the one he had been running away from was himself, not the past or people. And now that he was forced to look within, he was able to see what he had to do. No more running away, no more hiding. It was time to live in the moment, to live for the future. 

“I understand now,” he said, his voice as clear as his vision as he walked past the spiders.

“Where are you going?”

“Ezra needs me,” Kanan said without pausing his steps. His son needs him, and this time, he would be there for him and nothing could stop him. “They all do.”

“What about the spiders?”

Kanan let out a chuckle. “I can see them, so there’s nothing to fear.”

Bendu merely chuckled and Kanan could feel that he had left, disappearing to Force knows where. But that did not matter, what mattered was the clear path ahead of him and he continued to follow it back to Chopper’s Base. 

“Where have you been?” Sabine said curiously, hopping off one of the crates she had been sitting on when she spotted Kanan walking up the ramp of the _Ghost_. Hera turned around from the list she had been looking over, most likely doing an inventory check. 

“Out,” was all he offered with a smile. Hera and Sabine shared a small chuckle. 

“Well, welcome back home, Love,” Hera said as she walked over, putting a hand on his arm. 

“You look more relaxed,” Sabined commented.

“Yeah, not getting back into the drinks, are you?” Zeb joked as he jumped down into the cargo hold, joining in on the fun. 

“Oh yes, totally,” Kanan faked slurred and they laughed. They of course knew Kanan had not drank any alcohol for he did not smell like it, and besides, the Jedi was a terrible actor. Chopper then barged in, complaining of the ruckus they were creating.

“Yes, yes Chopper,” Zeb said, patting the astromech on the head. 

“It’s good to be home,” Kanan sighed out. He had missed this, his family, the warmth and laughter. The only thing missing now was Ezra.

“Is something on your mind?” Hera asked, eyeing Kanan with a knowing glint that he sensed through the Force. 

“I think it’s time to bring our son home,” he said and everyone quieted down and he could sense their anticipation and nervousness. They wanted this as badly as he does and that was good.

“We were wondering when you were going to say that,” Hera said, smiling.

“And how will we do that?” Sabine asked, resting a hand on her hip.

“Let’s start with freeing Lothal,” Kanan replied. If they make some noise on Lothal, that would surely attract the attention of the inquisitors, and most likely Ezra. 

Even if they failed with bringing Ezra home, this was the one thing they could do in his honour. The last parting gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not add Ezra hunting Maul because even after all training Ezra had for the past ~two years, I honestly think he would be in trouble if Maul took him on seriously and well, we can't have Ezra dead.


	20. Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra returns to Lothal when rebels threaten to free Lothal

The shuttle slightly shuddered as it landed in docking bay 13 amongst the other eight Lambda shuttles, personal ships to the higher ranking officers. Ezra and the Inquisitor were summoned aboard the infamous  _ Chimaera _ , the flagship of the Seventh Fleet, and commanded by none other than the Grand Admiral, Thrawn. 

Ezra had never met Thrawn before, only hearing of the man’s string of successes that made him climb to the very top in the navy. It then came to a surprise that Thrawn was not human, but rather a humanoid with blue skin, and blue-black hair much like his own but a much darker shade. And the most unsettling feature by far were the glowing red eyes, and Ezra found himself unable to stare at them for long before averting his gaze to avoid the intense glare of the red.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn,” the Inquisitor greeted as they walked towards the desk where Thrawn sat behind. “I heard you have a lead on insurgents?”

Thrawn nodded his head in greeting. “Grand Inquisitor, Thirteenth Brother. Yes, I believe the rebels, or more precisely the group known as the Spectres, plan an attack on Lothal,” Thrawn said, his voice smooth and neutral. 

“How can you be certain that they plan an attack? Are they present on Lothal at the moment?” Ezra questioned.  _ Is Kanan on Lothal _ ?

Despite not able to see his pupils, Ezra could feel Thrawn’s stare and tried not to squirm. “A part of the group is indeed on Lothal, having stolen the prototype of my newest TIE Defender, and along with it, its flight data recorder which Hera Syndulla managed to get off of Lothal and back to Rebel command.”

“Ah, so no doubt the Rebel command will take action,” the Inquisitor commented. “So predictable.”

“Indeed,” Thrawn agreed. 

“What would their target be?” 

“Why the fuel depot, of course.” Thrawn turned on the holoprojector and the map of Capital City appeared, highlighting the location of the fuel depot. “The location of where the rebels are at this very moment is unclear. According to my men and bodyguard, Rukh, they had vanished amongst the rock formations.”

Thrawn turned his attention to Ezra. “You were born on Lothal and were originally part of the Spectres, yes? Although I am familiar with the rebels and your home planet, I would like to hear your thoughts as to where the rebels may set up their base.”

“I… I wouldn’t know where they would hide,” Ezra stammered as he attempted to think of places the Spectres  _ could _ hide. They would not risk a high security place, especially if they were initially outside of the city and last he heard, Tarkintown had been burnt down to the ground. “I doubt they would be in the Capital City, but I cannot think of any particular place. I haven’t been much outside of the city, sir.”

Thrawn hummed as if in thought as he leaned back into his chair. “But of course,” he said, “You know your way around Capital City and will thus prove to have an advantage there. You will work alongside Rukh.”

The three then made their way to the bridge where Rukh hid in the shadows with a scowl on his face. If Ezra had been unsettled by Thrawn’s eyes, he had felt repulsed with Rukh. The alien was a Noghri, short in stature with a row of horns on his head and large, pale eyes. He sniffed the air a few times, but other than that seemed uninterested in engaging with the inquisitors after their short introductions and went back to the shadows from whence he came from. 

Thrawn had soon afterwards excused himself to oversee preparations with the other bridge officer corps, and Ezra watched the blue alien leave. 

“I must admit that I was surprised to see an alien with such a high rank,” Ezra confessed to his master. It was a known fact that the Empire had a xenophobic tendency, especially the Imperials from the core worlds, and he very much doubted that the Pau’an was unaware of this being non-human himself.

“The Emperor took a great liking to him,” the Inquisitor said. “A great warrior from the Unknown Regions from what I have heard.”

“From the Unknown Regions?” Ezra’s brows furrowed. It was unusual for Ezra to not know an alien species, having lived in the Outer Rim and all. “So he isn’t a Pantoran with an eye condition?”

“No,” he replied with a slight amused smile. He did not correct Ezra so he assumed that even the Inquisitor did not know what species the Grand Admiral was, and before he could ask to clarify that assumption, the Inquisitor’s commlink beeped. “I have a transmission I require to attend to.”

The Inquisitor left the bridge, leaving Ezra to his own musings until further orders were given. Uncertain as to what to do, Ezra made his way to the viewport. He had not seen Lothal since he had last been sent after Kanan with the Minister Tua incident, which had been three months ago. After that, there had been less activity involving Kanan, having been last seen on Malachor when the Eight and Fifth Brothers and Seventh Sister were sent after Maul. This had ended with the deaths of the inquisitors and an injured Vader with only the death of Ahsoka to show for.

All reminicings died when he reached the viewport, his throat suddenly becoming dry. The world he had once called home, green with the rolling fields of grasses and white from the snowy plains now burnt red, leaving nothing but scorched ashes behind. It made him feel sick that he could see the destruction of Lothal from space and did not even want to comprehend what it would look like on the surface. And all this destruction in a matter of a few months.

_ I’ve seen the devastation caused by the hands of this system to the Outer Rim, swallowing up all its resources. _

The words of the senator Irek Cohl rang in Ezra’s ears, as if mocking him from beyond the grave. He thought he knew what the senator meant, thought that the Imperial already got what they wanted from Lothal, but now, seeing it in flames like this… Ezra balled his fists, but kept his face neutral, wishing that he still had his mask to hide away his face. He must not appear to be affected by this - if anyone saw, they may start to question his loyalty. 

Closing his eyes, Ezra moved away from the viewport. It was best to avoid gazing upon Lothal; the feelings that rose within him were too webbed for him to untangle, too confusing to understand. 

“Thirteenth Brother.”

Ezra’s eyes snapped open. The Inquisitor had returned from his call. “Yes, Master?”

“I am needed elsewhere for a quick mission. You will follow orders from Thrawn. I should be back soon, but should the time arise, use this opportunity to redeem yourself from your last encounter with Jarrus.”

“Yes, Master,” Ezra nodded in understanding. There was now a shortage of inquisitors, with only three of them remaining, so he was not as surprised that the Inquisitor had something else come up. “I will not fail this time,” he added with confidence, but could not stop a sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach. 

“See to it that you don’t,” said the Inquisitor as he turned and made his way off the bridge and Ezra looked down at his feet, his mind racing with unwanted thoughts.

It was not long after that the Inquisitor left that Thrawn had ordered Ezra to go to Lothal’s surface with Rukh in preparations for the ground assault. For the entire duration of the flight to the surface, Ezra avoided gazing out of the viewport, closing his eyes in feigning sleep. It was only when they landed at the Imperial Complex did he allow his eyes to open, knowing that he would not be able to see the devastated grasslands from the city. He may have sworn his loyalty to the Empire, but that did not mean he was not affected in seeing his homeworld in such a state.

He was greeted by none other than Governor Pryce, who he had not met before due to her being away to Coruscant last time he was on Lothal. Pryce regarded them with an openly disapproval look, her lips pulled back into a thin line and her eyes narrowed as she gazed upon Rukh. 

“Governor Pryce,” Ezra greeted and she merely hummed in reply, making him shift awkwardly on his feet. 

“Grand Admiral Thrawn had sent you here to ensure that no rebel escapes Capital City when the time comes,” she said with authority. “I expect no failures this time,” Pryce added, eyeing Rukh, most likely referring back to the rebels disappearing amongst the rock formation incident.

“It won’t be like last time,” Rukh stated, his voice deep and rough and glared at the human with glowing pale eyes. 

“Hmm,” Pryce hummed, doubtful. Clearly, she held no love for the Noghri and did not share the same precautions as Thrawn. She then waved a hand in dismissal, “Grand Admiral Thrawn said that the rebels will attack the Capital City’s fuel depot, so go and see to it that no one gets there under our noses.” 

Ezra watched as darkness settled over Capital City, encasing it with a twilight glow. He had been wandering the rooftops around the perimeter of the fuel pods all day, waiting for any sign of rebel activity. Thus far, there had been no signs of the rebels lurking in Capital City or in the skies like Thrawn had foreshadowed and Ezra was becoming bored with just waiting.

Crouching down on his perch on one of the rooftops, Ezra took the time to just admire the views. He knew this was considered as slacking off, but it had been such a long time since he had last done this, and that was before he even met the  _ Ghost _ . During his time living on his own, he would always come up here to watch the sun set and the moons rise in its place when he felt lonely. It felt odd, to suddenly feel lonely again and reminisce about the past so suddenly. Perhaps it was due to him being back on Lothal and the scenery of twilight. 

Ezra heaved a sigh. There was no point in reminiscing. The past was the past and nothing more, and he had a job to do. 

All of a sudden, there was a shout of the streets and Ezra peered down from his perch to see a civilian pointing up into the distance. Following their gaze, he could see tendril of smoke in the far distance on the outskirts of Capital City. He did not have to see what it was to know that it were the anti-craft guns that were on fire. They were too far away for him to effectively get there in time to capture the insurgents, even if one of them was Kanan, as they would be long gone by the time he arrived. 

Instead, he got up from his crouching position and stayed alert, his eyes scouring the skies. If they targeted the anti-craft guns, then it would mean that the assault in the skies would soon begin, He knew Thrawn had an impressive blockage, having seen it with his own eyes, but it was expected that there would be a few that would get by. What they had planned to counter that, Ezra did not know. His only responsibility was for any crash survivors or other rebels, and not going against starfighters. 

The clouds above were painted red as flying debris of broken ships rained down from the skies. Then came a few intact X-wing starfighters with a trail of TIE fighters, sputtering out smoke as it plummeted down to the city.

“Rukh, Thirteenth Brother,” Thrawn’s calm voice spoke up from his wristlink, “Rebel pilots may have survived the attack. Capture them alive if possible, Captain Syndulla in particular.”

Hera Syndulla. The great pilot of the  _ Ghost _ , the mother figure amongst the Spectres. Ezra had come to admire her aboard the  _ Ghost _ long ago and now they were his enemies. Swallowing down the lump in his throat that was there out of anticipation or something else, he brought his wristlink up. 

“It will be done, Grand Admiral,” Ezra said before silenting his comm.

Peering up to the horizon once more, he calculated the distance where the X-wings had crashed and leaped off to the next room into the direction of the smoke. Down below, he could hear the whimpers of civilians and the stormtroopers barking orders as they searched for any rebel. When he drew nearer to the smoke, he spotted Rukh running along the rooftops not too far away.

The Noghri kept his gaze downwards and Ezra followed it to see Hera running alongside Chopper and a young man in a rebel pilot suite. Not wanting Rukh getting hold of Hera first, Ezra jumped down from the rooftop, using the Force to cushion his landing. 

“Look out!” the man cried out, and Hera whipped around, her lekku bouncing, and gasped.

“Ezra!” she cried out and Ezra ignored her, using the Force to knock her off her feet. Hera grunted in surprise and Rukh used this moment to leap down and went in for an attack. The Twi’lek got up in time and blocked Rukh’s fist before throwing her own punch in, hitting the Noghri in the face. 

Ezra closed in and Hera eyed him with sad eyes, making his stomach twist uncomfortably. The gaze of a mother. Twisting his lips back, he ignored his discomfort and attacked. She used his own weight against him, throwing him onto the ground before turning her attention to Rukh who prepared for another assault.

“Go! That’s an order!” she yelled out, seeing that was outnumbered. Chopper hesitated, moving slightly towards her. “I said go, Chop!”

She took out her blaster and with a single blast, hit the control panel that closed off the only entrance into the sewers. The loss of an astromech droid and one rebel was more than made up for with the capture of Hera Syndulla. Ezra used the Force and ripped the blaster from her hands and Rukh kneeled her in the stomach before forcing her onto her knees to bind her wrists. 

A patrol shuttle landed and Pryce stepped out with an air of victory as she eyed Hera with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Governor Pryce, I’ve so wanted to meet you,” Hera bit out, glaring at the woman before her and ignoring Ezra who stood silently by her side.

“Such a small victory,” Pryce said as she looked down her nose before stunning Hera, rendering her unconscious. “Move out,” she ordered and Ezra slumped Hera over his shoulder before boarding the shuttle. 

Ezra was surprised that Kanan had not yet come to the rescue, knowing how much the Twi’lek meant to the Jedi. But if he was not going to show up tonight, then he would definitely show up in the next few days. Pryce, however, thought otherwise. The whole city was on complete lockdown and she doubted the rebels would even be brave enough to dare a rescue attempt. Ezra held his tongue after that, not wanting to sour the Governor’s mood even further.

He now stood outside of Governor Pryce’s office, where she had insisted they keep Hera in an interrogation chair. Ezra thought it was odd that for some reason he felt sick at the thought of watching Hera get tortured. It was not as though he had not seen tortures or even conducted them, but for whatever bizarre reason, Ezra could not bring himself to enter that room while Pryce was playing as the interrogator. All he could do was block out the screams as much as he could, biting on the inside of his lips to the point of bleeding.

His closed eyes snapped open when he heard approaching footsteps and saw Thrawn coming from around the corner with two stormtroopers in tow. He looked at Ezra with an unreadable expression, his intense red eyes studying him like a specimen under a microscope. His gaze remained a while longer before disappearing into Pryce’s office without much of a word and Ezra let out a sigh of relief.

The screaming had stopped upon the admiral entering the office and Ezra could hear muffled voices, but not clearly enough to know what was being said. The voices soon stopped and the door slid open as Thrawn walked out and Ezra noticed that the admiral was holding a wooden statue in his hand. This time Thrawn did not stop to look at Ezra as he walked down the hallway, soon followed by Rukh and Pryce, leaving Ezra standing alone by the door.

The Governor had most likely grown frustrated from the lack of answers, after all it had been almost twenty-four hours since Hera had been in custody with no results to show for. And now that the office had been left empty for the most part, with the exception of the two stormtroopers that had yet left the room, Ezra was suddenly overcome with an urge to go see Hera. He balled his fists at the urge, feeling confused, before forcing himself to relax.

_ It’s just to ensure Kanan or anyone else doesn’t rescue Hera when Rukh and Pryce are gone _ , Ezra told himself as he steeled his nerves before entering Pryce’s office. The stormtroopers paid him no heed as he walked in and turned to face Hera who slumped against the restraints of the chair. She looked momentarily surprised to see Ezra, her warm green eyes widening before melting away into liquid honey. 

They must have given her something as she seemed not quite there - what other explanation would Ezra have when the Twi’lek started crying tears of relief. He had expected her to be angry, resentful or at least something like that, just anything but happy. It made him squirm, but Ezra forced himself to stand still as he glared at her. 

“Ezra,” Hera called out, her voice gentle and warm. It was so much like how Ezra remembered it two years ago, the soft mother tone she would use when comforting Ezra or other crew members. His throat tightened as he pushed the memories down. 

_ No. They abandoned me, left me for dead. _

“It really is you,” she said, slightly smiling. “You have grown so much over the past years… I only wish that we could have met again under better circumstances.” She let out a hollow laugh at her words, a small tear escaping her eye. 

_ Good. Let her regret casting me aside. _

“For so long we spent thinking you were dead,” she choked out, and moved slightly against the restraints. “I wish I could hold you to know that you are real, that you really are here and alive.”

Ezra took a step back, hitting the desk behind him. Kanan had mentioned that he thought that Ezra was dead, and now Hera. Of course, just like his master warned, it could all be said in an attempt to deceive Ezra. But once again, he could feel no ill intent in the Force, no attempt to deceive, and he doubted the drugs would make it easier for Hera to lie.

“Kanan saw you die by the hands of the Inquisitor, and then the next thing we knew, you were trying to kill him,” she rambled on, and her eyes were starting to unfocus. “Life can be so cruel, you know?”

Ezra scoffed. “Kanan left me there, he ran away. And as you can see, I am  _ very  _ much alive.”

Hera’s face scrunched up in confusion. “He didn’t just leave, he tried to retrieve your body, but couldn’t… he would never abandon you, Kanan sees you as his -”

“Liar!” Ezra sneered. “It would seem that Kanan lied to you as well, just as you are attempting to deceive me.”

Not wanting to hear anymore, Ezra stormed out of the office, regretting ever entering the cursed room to begin with. He slammed his fist on the wall as he tried to catch his breath, his heart hammering in his chest. Why? Why was he feeling like this now, after all these years? Feeling like this was treasonous, not only to his master but to himself, and he needed to compose himself. Ezra had almost allowed himself to believe the false words, just as he almost did back with Kanan.

After all those tortures and lessons that the Inquisitor had put him through, it would seem that a sliver of his old self still remained, clinging onto the past feelings as desperately as a man with a drop of water in a hot desert. 

_ The past _ . That was it. To destroy the old Ezra once and for all, to end this conflict within him, he would have to destroy all ties to the past. Then, and only then, would Ezra no longer exist, and only Thirteenth Brother would remain.

He opened his burning eyes, and took a deep, shaky breath through his nose. 

_ Through victory, my chains are broken. _

There was a sudden shift in the Force before Ezra heard the breaking of glass and the sound of bodies dropping to the floor. His head snapped to the door that leads to Pryce’s office and immediately knew what was happening.  _ Kanan _ . 

He took out his newly built lightsaber, this time not having an emitter ring after learning of its weakness, and keyed the control panel. The door did not open and Ezra cursed under his breath. Igniting the red blade, he plunged the hot blade through the door’s lock and forced it to open, revealing an empty interrogation chair and no sign of Kanan or Hera.

“Karabast!”

He ran up to the shattered window and looked around. It was hard in the darkened sky, despite the city lights. There was no way they could have gotten far but he had no means of tools to climb the building and hastily ran past Rukh who had been on his way back to the office, ignoring the irritated Noghri, and took the turbolift down. Once he had left the Imperial Complex, he heard sounds of blasters and Ezra craned his head up towards the sky just in time to see a Loth-bat jump off the ledge of the Complex.

Squinting his eyes, he could suddenly see that it wasn’t a Loth-bat. It was a glider, and on top of it were Kanan and Hera.

Not wanting to lose them, he scanned the area and ran towards a speederbike and started it, ignoring the angry stormtrooper as he sped off. His stomach lurched. If he was correct, then Kanan and Here were heading straight for the fuel depot. The very thing they were supposed to protect at all costs. He gripped the handle tighter and prompted the speeder to move faster as he raced against time to get to the fuel depot before they could destroy it or escape.

Ezra skidded to a halt when he reached the furthest fuel pod and looked up to see that they were nearly at the top. Gritting his teeth, he hastily got off the speeder and started to run up the spiraling stairs, using the Force to enhance his speed. When he was near the top, he could hear Hera confessing her love to Kanan. 

Jumping up the last few stairs, he reached the top and ignited his lightsaber, breaking up the lovers’ kiss. Kanan stepped forward protectively in front of Hera, his face grim. Ezra stared at the man surprised at the appearance change.

Kanan’s hair was cut short with a rough mohawk and he had gotten rid of his facial hair. But more prominent than that was the healed scar that ran across Kanan’s face, right over his eyes which were now a pale colour. He was blind, Ezra realised. 

That would not matter, he decided, as long as he could get a worthy fight - a victorious fight. 

_ Break my chains _ .

“You don’t have to do this, Ezra,” he said gently, taking another tentative step forward.

“That’s not my name… not since you abandoned me back on Stygeon Prime!” Ezra snarled, his knuckles turning white. He relaxed his mechanical hand, not wanting to accidentally damage his lightsaber - that would be quite embarrassing. “Do you have any idea what I went through because of you?!”

“No,” Kanan answered, sounding defeated. “I could never understand the pain that you went through because of the Inquisitor, nor could I ever imagine how you must have felt, thinking I have abandoned you… Nor could I possibly ever make it up to you.”

Kanan let out a shaky breath, his hands were trembling. He then straightened his spine and looked at Ezra with unwavering determination. “ But I will  _ not _ fight you.”

“If you won’t fight me, then you will die by my blade,” Ezra said and the familiar sensation of hesitance seemed to pull at him again.  _ No, I have to break my chains _ , Ezra growled to himself as he forced himself to take a step forward.

“Okay,” Kanan sighed.

“Kanan, no!” Hera wrapped her hand around Kanan’s arm to pull him back and he gently placed a hand on top of hers.

“It’s okay, Hera,” he said gently, “If this is something that has to happen and if it is something that would free Ezra, then it’s a price that I am willing to pay.”

“Kanan, don’t! There must be another way,” Hera’s eyes misted as Kanan took another step towards Ezra.

“It’s okay, Hera,” he repeated, and slightly turned his head to smile softly at her. She nodded her head in understanding. Something stirred within Ezra as he watched Kanan approach him with the acceptance of death. It somehow did not feel like the time the Jedi sacrificed himself to save Ezra from his master’s wrath. No, it felt… 

_ No, don’t think of it. Just kill him. Through victory you will break your chains and be free…  _

But free from what exactly? 

“Ezra,” Kanan called out again, extending his hand out towards Ezra as if sensing his hesitation. “There is still another path… you can come with us, come  _ home _ .”

_ Home… _

Ezra wanted to go home, a place of warmth and comfort.  _ They’re trying to deceive you _ , a voice whispered in the back of his mind.  _ Kanan abandoned you, and now he’s lying to save himself _ .

“You,” Ezra choked out, blinking the mist from his eyes. “I saw you get up and leave me without a second glance to see if I am alive…”

Kanan’s brows furrowed, “I did _ not _ want to leave you. I tried to retrieve your body multiple times so that you may have had a proper burial, but the Inquisitor blocked my every attempt and then the bucketheads have arrived.”

“That’s not what I saw on the holovideo!” Ezra cried out, waving his lightsaber dangerously. For months it had been drilled in his head that Kanan ran away, he saw the video in his sleep, reminded by the cruel whispers from his master. To hear otherwise sounded obscured, but once again, Ezra could detect no lie in the Force and Kanan’s feelings of desperation for Ezra to come home were real.

_ Break your chains, kill the past _ . 

“You’ve been deceived by the Inquisitor! This is exactly what he wanted!”

Ezra opened his mouth to deny the statement when an Imperial patrol transport shuttle hovered above the fuel tank. There was the boy that Ezra had seen the previous night with Hera, now dressed like an Imperial pilot in his black suit, and waved a hand.

“Come on you guys, reinforcements are coming!” he yelled out over the engines. 

“Ezra, come with us,” Kanan asked once again, his hand still extended. 

His throat tightened and he felt a single tear roll down his scarred cheek. “No, Kanan. It’s too late.”

Kanan dropped his hand, he turned slightly again to Hera. “Go, Hera. I’ll be right behind you.”

Hera nodded hesitantly, her eyes misting and perhaps already knowing what was going to happen as she made her way to the gunship. Kanan faced Ezra, and made no attempt to grab his lightsaber. It made Ezra question everything again, but this time he did not allow his doubt to stop him as he took a step closer, preparing to raise his blade.

_ Through victory, my chains are broken. _

“Kanan! Ezra!” Hera called out, worry evident in her voice.

Ezra looked to where Hera was pointing and his heart dropped. There was an AT-AT heading their way and in that instant, he knew that Governor Pryce was going to blow up the fuel pod despite the consequences of ruining the TIE Defender project and taking out an inquisitor along with it; though an insignificant life in comparison to the massive military project in the eyes of the Empire. 

Time seemed to have slowed down as he watched the blasts take its course right into the fuel tank they stood on. The metal below them shook and groaned and started to bend as the pressure increased rapidly, causing Ezra to lose his balance. He toppled backwards onto the ground, the battle with the Jedi forgotten, and he knew he was going to die. This was it, he had lived his life in misery, being chained to the Empire over the past two years without even accomplishing his meager goal of revenge. 

He looked up, mouth agape as Kanan stood before him, his arms extended out. The hot flames licked around him, threatening to push him back. Ezra had no idea that Kanan had been so strong in the Force, but they both knew he could only stop the inevitable explosion for so long. 

“Go!” His voice was strained as he turned his body, extending his arm out in their direction. “Leave!”

Kanan’s misted eyes landed on Ezra, the warm hues of the fire reflecting in the teal orbs as he gave one last smile. Ezra's heart stopped, unable to comprehend what was happening. He watched as Kanan’s lips moved, saying something he could not process before he turned his back against the flames, extending both hands outwards. Ezra and the gunship were sent flying back, away from the deadly embrace of the flames.

Ezra could only watch with wide, tear-filled eyes as he felt himself plummet to the ground below, falling further and further away from Kanan, reaching out to the Jedi with a stretched hand longingly. He watched as the flames wrapped around Kanan in a deadly embrace, insingerating his body almost instantly in the explosion.

A scream tore from Ezra as the shockwave sent him flying even further and he skidded across the rough ground.  Ezra ignored the burning pain as he propped himself up on his elbows, looking up at the raging flames. The fuel depot was completely destroyed, taking Kanan along with it. And Ezra did not realise that he was screaming, tears streaming down his face as he weakly reached out with a trembling hand towards the burning debris, Kanan’s words echoing in his head.

_ I’m so sorry, my son. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I wasn't going to post again so soon, but I am giving my laptop away to my friend until after my exam so that I can no longer procrastinate with drawing, writing, crocheting etc (hopefully). So I am not sure if I will update again until after my exam (Nov. 3rd) unless I do it when I take my online attendance quizzes on Fridays but I feel like a fair warning should be in place just in case.
> 
> Also... I am so so sorry for this chapter.


	21. Heading for a Breakdown

Dawn had broken, though the warm tendrils of light did not penetrate through the dark clouds that cloaked the city. Stormtroopers scoured the perimeter through the remnants of hissing smoke, observing the damage and attempting to find anything salvageable, although Ezra doubted they would. There was nothing left of the fuel depot, just twisted heaps of scorched metal and Kanan's lightsaber.

It was the only thing that was left of the Jedi and Pryce had been delighted at the demise of Kanan Jarrus despite the great cost of the upcoming military project. Ezra's grip tightened on Kanan's lightsaber, having had confiscate it from the governor who wanted to keep it as a trophy.

This was not a victory, and instead of being free from his past, Ezra felt hollow as he watched the spot where he had confronted the Spectres. 

Was this not what he wanted? Had he not longed for the death of Kanan Jarrus for the past two years? What he had trained for? And yet, he now found himself wanting to do nothing more than scream and cry, and Ezra was not  entirely sure whether  it was the fact that Kanan had not died by his hands or that the fact that Kanan had died at all.  He gritted his teeth, he did not want to think of such things now. 

_ I'm so sorry, my son _ . 

Ezra grasped at his heart, suddenly bending over in pain.  _ No, not here, not now _ . He refrained from bolting then and there as he could feel his walls starting to crack and bend under the words echoing in his mind. But he could not risk breaking down here in front of the watchful eyes of the Empire. 

He stiffly turned and walked as slowly as he possibly could with his anxious nerves and as soon as he left the perimeter, he ran. Ezra ran as fast as he possibly could, allowing the Force to guide him as he kept his gaze low to hide the burning tears. It was only when the pavement was replaced by soft grasses did Ezra slow down to a halt. 

Panting, Ezra rested his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He had not realised he had run this far away, and he allowed his eyes to scan the yellow-green grass that danced in the gentle wind. Watching the once familiar scenery brought a sense of calmness, but was soon replaced by a feeling of homesickness. The last time he had walked through the plains of Lothal was when he was still known as Spectre Six, and that seemed ages ago.

Ezra's legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground as he thought of the _Ghost_ , his finger nails digging into the soft soil. All of the anger he had desperately held onto for the past two and a half years had vanished as if it had become nothing more than smoke, unable to grasp it any longer as it dissipated. It left him feeling as if someone had carved out a part him, leaving him feel empty as if all meaning had vanished along with his anger. Kanan was supposed to die at his hands as a villain, as the man who had abandoned Ezra to his fate, and not as the hero who sacrificed himself in order to save Ezra. Ezra who had tried to kill kanan just moments before it happened.

He should have died alongside the Jedi that night, it would have made this all much easier than to face the turmoil within. Or better yet, the Jedi should have just saved himself. That way, at least Ezra wouldn't have been left conflicted before he died.

But that didn't happen. No, Kanan sacrificed himself to save Ezra along with his other loved ones.

_ I'm so sorry, my  son _ .

The walls cracked slightly, giving away as the words echoed again. 

“Then why did you leave me!” Ezra sobbed out, his throat burning as he slammed his fist into the dirt. 

_ I thought you were dead, I saw you die. _

_ For so long we spent thinking you were dead. _

_ I did not want to leave you. I tried to retrieve your body multiple times. The Inquisitor blocked my every attempt. _

_ He didn’t just leave, he tried to retrieve your body, but couldn’t… he would never abandon you, Kanan sees you as his - _

“ _ No! _ ” Ezra wailed out, clutching his throbbing head. It felt as if he was being ripped into two and nothing made sense anymore! He did not know who to believe, or even what to believe. He screamed out again, but his voice died down when he heard a low growl.  Ezra tensed and his fingers twitched towards Kanan’s lightsaber. Ezra knew that Lothal had sabercats, never having seen one himself as they lived on the far side of the planet and usually only preyed on Loth-cat kittens, but he did not want to take chances as he dared to take a peek behind him.

He frowned. There  was nothing there, only gentle swaying grasses and the distant view of Capital City. Slowly, Ezra got up from his kneeling position, hoping to be able to peer through the grasses better standing at his full height, but again. There was nothing to be seen.

“Maybe I’m finally losing it,” he muttered tiredly to himself, running a hand over his face and hair as he allowed himself to relax slightly. Sighing, Ezra decided it was probably for the best to go back to Capital City and leave all of this behind. Perhaps he could learn to pretend that all of this never happened, to banish all conflicting feelings and to learn to finally shed the remnants of Ezra Bridger. Perhaps then, he could finally feel complete again. 

Nodding in determination, Ezra turned and nearly jumped back in surprise when he found himself face to face with a Loth-wolf, creatures that were thought to have been extinct for hundreds of years. Unwillingly, his body went rigid with fear as he stared into the yellow orbs of a hunter, his instincts screaming at him to run, the lightsabers completely forgotten. Then two more wolves appeared, this time black in fur, and they started to form a semi-circle around him, effectively blocking his way back to Capital City. 

Then his muscles suddenly worked again and Ezra turned and bolted. The wolves chased after him, growling and snapping at his feet, only spurring him to run even faster. His heart pounded in his chest and his muscles strained as his lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, but he didn't slow down. Eventually, after what felt like forever, Ezra's legs gave out and he stumbled forward with a cry. His chin painfully scrapped against the rocky surface and he instinctively threw his hands over his head as he felt one of the wolves jump over him.

Ezra remained in the foetal position, his body trembling as he waited for the wolves to end his pathetic life. But the jaws of death never came and Ezra slowly lowered his arms and peeked out into the grasses. He was alone. Confused, Ezra sat up and surveyed the area for the predators when a clearing nearby caught his eyes. 

Cautiously, he crawled towards the clearing, occasionally glancing over his shoulders to see if the wolves had come back to finally end him. They never did and when he reached his destination, Ezra stilled. It was not a natural clearing. The grasses and weeds were pulled out to form an almost perfect circle around a mound of dirt. It was a burial site and from the looks of it by the colouration of the soil, it was not new. However, Ezra could tell that it had recently been tended to for no weed sprouted out from the dirt and on top of the mound laid a single blue flower.

Ezra allowed his eyes to follow up towards the stick that acted as a marker and his breath hitched. On top of the stick was a painted cadet helmet. Ezra's cadet helmet. 

His stomach lurched at the realisation that this was not just any grave. It was _his_ grave. Ezra scrambled away, the palms of his hands painfully digging into the rocks as he tried to find purchase. 

_ I tried to retrieve your body multiple times so that you may have had a proper burial, but the Inquisitor blocked my every attempt _

The wall crumbled away some more, like fragile glass shattering upon impact. Ezra's vision blurred as tears began to freely fall.  Kanan and Hera  _ were _ telling the truth the entire time. But then... what would that mean about the Inquisitor?

Ezra heaved the contents of his stomach after being overcome by the sudden nauseating realisation. He panted, ignoring the unpleasant acidic smell that stung his nose as he continued to gag. " _Oh Force,_ " he choked out, nearly unable to breathe. The horrible truth that he had danced around for more than two years was now naked before him and no longer could he tear his eyes away from it. The Inquisitor had deceived Ezra, forcing twisted truths down his throat as he was tortured into submission before presenting an opportunity of revenge on a silver platter. False revenge at Kanan Jarrus and the _Ghost_ for abandoning him.

Ezra choked on the thoughts. It had been _Ezra_ that betrayed Kanan and his family and it had been _Ezra_ that tried to kill them like a fool that he was. He had believed the Inquisitor, eagerly lapping at the promises of revenge for a betrayal that had never existed to begin with. And to think of the things he had willingly done for said revenge, for this charade set up for him made Ezra sick. The people he had killed with his own hands, the people he had tortured and _enjoyed_ torturing and killing. 

The dam he had desperately built, holding back any remorse he may had felt from the trail of bodies he left in his wake, came crashing down and Ezra nearly drowned. 

Kanan was one of those bodies. Kanan who died protecting Ezra. Kanan who wouldn't have died if Ezra hadn't given in so easily, if he hadn't so readily taken in the poison that sputtered from the Inquisitor's cruel lips. Yes, that would mean that Ezra would have most likely died a slow, agonising death, but at least he wouldn't have been a traitor - the Emperor's dog, doing his every bidding. But it was too late for that. What has happened had happened.

Kanan was dead and it was all Ezra's fault.

A horrible wail ripped from Ezra's throat as he clawed at his scalp, his vision becoming disorientated as he stared unseeingly at the ground. Screwing his eyes close, he continued to scream, screaming for all the lies he had believed; screaming for all the lives he had took. He sobbed into his palms, his fingers finally having stopped assaulting the broken skin of his scalp, and he cried for the life that could have been where Kanan would still be alive in his stead. Ezra did not know how long this continued for, only stopping when his throat had become raw to the point that it was almost torture and his screams were no more than hoarse whispers. Instead, he quieted down to mere sniffles and hiccups.

_ Stay blind if you must, but know that one day, that world of yours will crumble and by then, it may already be too late for you. _

_ Too late indeed _ , Ezra miserably thought to himself, now too exhausted to even shed tears - if he had any left to spare. He slumped onto the ground next to his grave, curling into a ball and absentmindedly rubbed the leaves of the flower between two fingers. 

He could never return to the  _ Ghost _ . He was nothing more than a filthy traitor and a murderer, one that had already made a few attempts on their lives. It did not matter that he had been deceived by the Inquisitor’s words and false promises. In the end, it had been Ezra’s choice. And Ezra could never ask them to forgive him, especially not when he could not even forgive himself. Not after all the things he had done… 

But the thought of going back to Capital City made his stomach churn. No longer could he grovel at the feet of the Inquisitor, much less the Empire, lapping at their hands as they fed him more lies. The veil had been lifted, exposing their true deformed nature.

Ezra closed his eyes, a single stray tear rolling down his cheek. “Kanan…” he croaked out, desperately. “How can I ever redeem myself? How can I ask for your forgiveness? I… I feel so lost… please, Kanan…”

He must have fallen asleep for he was awoken by something sniffing his hair. “Kanan?” he called out softly, his eyes still closed as he stretched out into the Force. The presence felt somewhat familiar, and yet -

With a startled gasp, Ezra pulled away and found himself staring into the eyes of a Loth-wolf, one much larger than the ones he had encountered earlier. _Definitely not Kanan_.

Ezra crawled away, thinking that the wolves had come back to finally end him. He certainly deserved to be mauled to death, but he could not help but to feel frightened at the same time. His attempts to move away were thwarted by the white Loth-wolf from earlier who growled behind him.

Looking up to the large wolf, who - upon closer inspection- had a canny resemblance to the Jedi with the same markings from Kanan’s shoulder pad - the Jedi Order insignia - on its forehead and glowing blue eyes. But it couldn’t have been Kanan. Kanan was a human and was now dead.

“Who are you?” Ezra croaked out after finally managing to find his voice. 

“I am Dume,” the wolf said with a heavy pause between every syllable as if it had trouble grasping the right words. But then again, it was already impressive enough for a wolf to speak Basic. Ezra cautiously got up from his position from the ground, his eyes never leaving Dume.

“What do you want from me?” If they did not want to eat him, then there must be a reason for their visit.

“You ran,” Dume said, his lips pulled back.

“Yeah, well the wolves were chasing me!” Ezra scoffed.

“Why?”

Ezra felt stumped for a moment. He knew that it was not the wolves that Dume was talking about, but Ezra running from Capital City; from the fuel depot; from Kanan. 

“I- I didn’t mean to run,” Ezra stammered out, his throat tightening. “I was just… scared, and I feel lost… so lost ever since my master died to protect me… He was caring and wise and I… I betrayed him!” 

Fresh tears started to pour down Ezra’s face as he admitted aloud to betraying his master. Dume leaned in and took a deep whiff of Ezra’s scent before pulling away.

“Guilt.”

“Well, of course! Kanan is dead and it’s all _my_ fault!” Ezra snapped back, angrily wiping his tears away. He soon felt guilty for snapping at Dume, for he had done nothing wrong, and Ezra casted his eyes down to his feet.

“Fight.”

“Fight what - the Empire? How?!” Ezra's eyes snapped back towards Dume. 

“Together,” Dume answered. 

Ezra’s brows furrowed at the reply.  _ Together? _ There was no one that Ezra knew he could fight with. He had ruined everything and was now utterly alone. The realisation sent a coldness up his spine and Ezra held himself as he shuddered. 

“With family,” Dume continued, and there was a twitch of the lips that Ezra had thought would have been a smile, but it was gone before he could be certain.

“They… they won’t want me back,” Ezra looked away, ashamed. Dume growled, and Ezra flinched thinking the wolf was going to attack. But the attack never came, and he then concluded that Dume disagreed with Ezra’s statement.

Before he could wonder further about Dume disagreement, the smaller white wolf walked towards them, growling and snapping his jaws at Ezra. Ezra drew back, raising his arms to brace himself for an attack when a large rock was dropped before him. Peeking from under his arms, he could see it was a slab of stone with etchings carved into it - ones very similar to the style he had seen in cave paintings.

Ezra looked at Dume in confusion, not understanding why they were giving him this rock. “This stone, where’s it from?”

“Jedi Temple,” Dume replied. 

_ Jedi Temple? _ That was the first he had heard of one on Lothal and why give it to him if he was not even a Jedi?

“Danger,” Dume growled, “Secrets within.”

“The Empire,” Ezra said. Who else would want the destruction of a Jedi Temple and take its secrets. Whatever those secrets were, it could not be good. “What kind of secrets?”

“Knowledge, destruction,” Dume snarled as he and the other wolves closed in on Ezra and suddenly Ezra started feeling claustrophobic, wanting to do nothing more than run again. But he held his ground, even as his palms grew sweaty and his legs shook. The next few words caught his attention though, and his eyes widened. “Restore past. Redeem future.”

Restoring the past! Redemption! Those were the things Ezra wanted so badly; a chance to ask for forgiveness, to make things right again.

“How? How do I do this?” Ezra cried out desperately, ignoring the burning of his throat as he raised his voice. Dume did not reply, and only continued to growl. “Tell me!”

The wolf’s lips pulled back into a vicious snarl, opening his mouth to show rows of sharp teeth. “No, _no_ …” Ezra whimpered out as he raised both hands to protect himself as Dume let out a loud roar before going in for the kill.

“Kanan!” Ezra screamed, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath and his skin was clammy with a layer of sweat. His eyes scanned the area to see that there were no wolves and he was again alone amongst the fields of grass right next to his empty grave. “It was just a dream…” he reassured himself, breathlessly. “Just a dream.”

Then, his hand touched a jagged object and he looked down, his heart leaping into his throat. The stone that the wolves gave him. “Then it wasn’t some kind of dream after all,” Ezra breathed out in disbelief and leaned forward to take a closer look at the etchings. He had not studied it in detail when it was given to him, too caught up in the conversation with Dume. 

They were beautiful, but Ezra could not make any sense of them. It looked as if it were only a fragment of a much larger piece, the circles being cut off at the edges. In the centre were three hands, all aligned in a vertical line. What each hand represented remained a mystery. 

But what Ezra did know, was that if the meeting with the wolves had indeed been real, then the Jedi Temple was in danger. And if he were to redeem himself, then he must stop the Empire.

However, there was just one detail that was missing. Ezra had no clue where this Jedi Temple was, and the wolves had not bothered telling him either. He had to be smart about this, and his stomach churned at the plan forming in his mind. Discovering the location of this temple would be hard, but fooling the Inquisitor would be harder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took forever to edit, but I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading :) until next time.


	22. The Act

After Ezra hid the stone safely beneath the dirt of his grave, he made his way back to Capital City. There he would have the best chances of seeking out answers as to where this Jedi Temple was located on Lothal, but he knew he could not directly ask the superior officers casually- especially if this was top secret. That would look too suspicious. However, he could perhaps slice into one of the computers, or perhaps get one of the high ranking officers alone and use the Force into telling him - that mind trick that he had seen Kanan do years ago. 

The plan was not solid, but it was the best that Ezra could come up with. He did not want to go to the Rebels, he had no right. Not after what he did, and so this was his best option.

When Ezra reached the highway, he saw a patrol group in the distance and his heart stopped. Amongst them were none other than Rukh and the Inquisitor. Ezra swallowed as he forced his legs to move. He knew he would have to face the Inquisitor sooner or later, but this was  _ way _ too soon and Ezra had not yet had the time to prepare for an act.

Taking a deep breath, Ezra calmed himself as he drew in closer to the group. Before he could take another step, one of the two speederbikes blew up, throwing him back. Ezra fell with a grunt as he hit the floor, knocking his head on the concrete. Fortunately, he was not close enough to be injured but he could not say the same for the two stormtroopers that were right next to the bike when it exploded. 

Groaning, Ezra sat up, rubbing his throbbing head. Almost immediately, the throbbing dissipated when he saw the Inquisitor approaching him and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. The Inquisitor’s yellow eyes were narrowed, and his muscles were tense, but most frighteningly was the lack of his usual smirk. He must be in a very foul mood indeed.

Ezra hastily got onto his knees, bowing to the Inquisitor and hoping that his act was not transparent. The black boots stopped just under his line of vision and Ezra suddenly felt too nervous to raise his head and to look into burning orbs.

“Apprentice,” the Inquisitor greeted, his voice lacking any emotion. Ezra’s heart hammered, had he already been figured out? Had the Inquisitor seen through his plans? “Where were you? I had arrived yesterday noon, wanting to congratulate you on the death of Kanan Jarrus, but you were nowhere to be found and you did not answer my calls.”

Ezra’s throat tightened at the comment of Kanan’s death. “I decided to take the time to visit the old communications tower outside of the city… I used to call it home.”

Lying was one of many things that Ezra had done regularly living on the streets, and he was pretty darn good at it. However, all of the con artist's confidence had left him, leaving his voice weak and he hoped that it was passable enough for the Inquisitor to not question it. Apparently, it was not. 

“Hm… is that so,” the Inquisitor said, clearly unimpressed. But he did not outright say that Ezra was keeping information and that in itself was a relief. Ezra straightened from his kneeling position and dared to look the Inquisitor in the eyes. He inwardly flinched when the Inquisitor had the same displeased expression when he had first approached Ezra. “Tell me, Apprentice… how did it feel to finally have your revenge against Kanan?”

Ezra’s heart dropped, and he opened and closed his mouth, hoping to form words but the Inquisitor continued. “Did it feel as what you imagined -  _ glorious  _ \- when you watched him get insinginerated? Evaporated to nothing more than blown away ash… or did you feel, instead, tempted by the light?”

Ezra froze at the words, his blood turning to ice. “I-” he croaked, his act disintegrating quite quickly. His hand reflexively moved towards the lightsaber on his belt, his fingers just hovering over it in case he needed to resort to using it. “I do not know what you’re talking about, Master… I swore my loyalty to you and the -”

“Spare me the lies,” the Inquisitor spat out. “I already know the answer by just gazing at your eyes.”

His eyes, Ezra realised, must have gone back to their original colour after coming to terms with the truth - or at least somewhat to terms. He had grown so used to the dark side that he barely had felt a shift, too busy focused on the upcoming plans to have felt the gentle embrace of the lightside. But now that plan was out the window and Ezra gasped as he quickly jumped back, just barely avoiding the blazing heat of the Inquisitor’s blade.

Ezra quickly ignited his own lightsaber, and the blade sizzled to life, gasping at its blue hue. It was Kanan’s lightsaber, but he had no time to switch as he locked blades with the Inquisitor. He winced at the strain before breaking off, putting distance between them. Ezra had become quite good with the lightsaber, but his experience and skill were no match with his former mentor.

“You ungrateful brat!” The Inquisitor snarled out as he attacked again, and Ezra dodged or blocked every time with some difficulty. “I took you in, trained you in the ways of the Force! I made you stronger, I gave you power!”

“You  _ lied _ to me!” Ezra countered, his anger rising at the Inquisitor’s comments. “Kanan had  _ never _ abandoned me - he thought I was dead!”

The Inquisitor growled, his eyes burning with fury like Ezra had never seen before. “I should have killed you when I had the chance!”

His attacks became more relentless and the double blade did nothing to help with giving Ezra a breather as he was pushed backwards. 

“You could have become much greater, but instead you threw it all away for a dead Jedi!” The Inquisitor sneered as their blades locked again. “A Jedi that you murdered.  _ How pathetic! _ ”

Ezra’s eyes narrowed and bit his cheeks, refusing to let the Inquisitor manipulate him any further, even if he knew that what the Pau’an said was true. He could not let himself be provoked into using the dark side. No, if he was going to take down the Inquisitor, he would be using the light side, even if killing was not the Jedi way.

Then there was an opening and Ezra used it to kick the Inquisitor, making him stumble slightly backwards, but did not completely lose his balance. It was good enough and Ezra raised his blade but had to quickly divert it to block an electrostaff.  _ Kriff _ . He had completely forgotten about the assassin, Rukh, who must have regained consciousness since the explosion. 

Ezra gritted his teeth. He could not fight the Inquisitor and Rukh at the same time. Both were skilled warriors, and working together, Ezra would not be able to defeat them. And as if by some miracle, the least expected help came.

A blast was directed at Rukh, who quickly rolled out of the way instinctively and growled in annoyance. Ezra followed the Noghri’s gaze and saw Zeb in the distance with his bo-rifle in hand. Sabine was with him too, wearing her Mandalorian helmet as she held her signature WESTAR-35 blasters. They kept their distance but were close enough to lure Rukh away from Ezra, leaving him to deal with the Inquisitor.

The sight of the Spectres made Ezra’s stomach churn, but he forced his eyes on the Inquisitor. He had to focus, because if he did not then he would end up dead. 

This time he was not fast enough as the plasma blade grazed his skin, burning into his flesh and Ezra cried out, pulling himself away. He rolled out of the way as the Inquisitor made a second jab, followed by a slash which he managed to block. It felt as if it was taking forever and the battle was going nowhere as they kept blocking and avoiding one another attacks, but the one thing Ezra did know was that he was growing tired. 

His muscles strained as he blocked each relentless attack and made a few of his own. Sweat would drip into his eyes and his lungs burned from moving so much, his ribs still bruised from the fall two days prior. If this went on for much longer, then his luck would fade much sooner than desired. 

Ezra glanced backwards and jumped onto the concrete road dividers, giving him the high ground, although not by much, given the Inquisitor’s height. He hastily blocked a jab, nearly losing his footing as the Inquisitor swirled his blade, making Ezra do twice the amount as each time he blocked one blade, the second would follow. He gritted his teeth, this was thus far not working in his favor and he could feel the pull of the dark side, the whispering promise of power.

Ezra would not use the dark side, not this time. No. If he were to defeat the Inquisitor, it would be with the light side of the Force, and if he died, then he would die with Kanan’s teachings in mind. However, that did not mean that it was easy keeping down the burning hatred of betrayal, attempting to keep his mind clear of any dark emotions.

It seemed that it was not only Ezra that was starting to feel the strain of their fight as the Inquisitor snarled, exposing his yellow-stained, pointed teeth. The Force around the Pau’an grew colder and wilder as his hatred towards the former apprentice deepens. His attacks became more relentless, more erratic and unpredictable.

Ezra’s eyes slightly widened when he thought of a way to defeat the Inquisitor. It was fairly straightforward, and dare he say, ironic. The thought came from one of the earliest lessons that the Inquisitor gave him in dueling:  _ use your anger to give you strength, but do not let it blind you _ .

“I was expecting a bit more from the Grand Inquisitor in a fight,” Ezra mocked, remembering how Vader had taunted the Inquisitor a year back and he knew that the Inquisitor resented his master. As expected, the comment was not taken well and the Pau’an growled as he swung his blades, growing sloppier with every swing, unaware of his surroundings.

His opening came when Sabine fired at the Inquisitor, hitting his upper right arm and he turned towards her, bearing his teeth in anger. Ezra quickly jumped down from the ledge he was on as the opportunity presented itself and the Inquisitor turned to block Ezra’s blade. The Inquisitor’s eyes widened as he let out a strangled gasp. Surprised eyes looked down to see a red blade impaling his chest.

The ringed lightsaber fell to the floor with a clatter, deactivated, as the Inquisitor fell to his knees after Ezra pulled the blade out, grasping his gaping wound. Ezra watched with blank eyes as the Pau’an then collapsed onto his back, his shocked eyes now narrowed at the boy.

“You could have become so much greater,” the Inquisitor rasped out. “You will regret betraying the Empire…”

“No,” Ezra said, his voice surprisingly calm. “I regret betraying my family and ideals for the Empire.”

But the Inquisitor did not hear him, he was already dead.

It felt odd, seeing the Inquisitor lie motionless on the ground. After all the lies and torture that the Inquisitor had put him through, Ezra would have thought that he would at least feel happy or relieved. Instead, he felt numb. This was still the man that taught Ezra how to build and use a lightsaber, and had shared his past with him amongst other stories and knowledge. And although it was all based on a well fabricated lie, it had still two years of his life where he had blindly admired the Pau’an.

He would, of course, not mourn the Inquisitor. Good riddance to him. His tormentor was gone forever, but the scars would remain, as well as the gaping hole left by the loss of Kanan and his family. The thought made him crumple to his knees, suddenly feeling completely drained as every ounce of energy left his muscles.

It was over and now he must face the consequences.

Kanan was dead because of Ezra, a heavy loss not only to him but to the  _ Ghost _ as well, and he would not stop Sabine or Zeb from taking their revenge. He closed his eyes, bracing for the blasts that would surely come. Ezra could at least somewhat die in peace, knowing that the Inquisitor was dead, although that was hardly redeeming himself, remembering the conversation with the wolves. 

But no blast came, and Ezra peeked from underneath his eyelashes to see Sabine and Zeb watching him with misty eyes. The sight left him feeling confused. He had been expecting anger and resentment… not tears. Especially after what had transpired with their last meeting - Sabine was even there to witness it for crying out loud!

It was this reasoning that led him to be even more shocked when Sabine approached him, dropping to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, embracing Ezra tightly as she sobbed into his shoulder. Ezra tensed, not daring to move a single muscle in fear of shattering this moment. It couldn’t be real, and he must still be dreaming. The real Sabine would never touch his body, repulsed by what he had become, what he had done.

And yet, the tears he felt seeping into his clothing felt very real, as was the warmth from her body heat, the feel of her fingers gripping his clothing tightly. This was all really happening and he could not wrap his head around it. After what felt forever and yet too short, Sabine pulled away, sniffling as she attempted to compose herself.

“S-stay back!” Ezra wrenched himself away from Sabine, instantly regretting pulling away from the warmth. “I am your enemy, how would you know I wouldn’t attack you??”

Sabine and Zeb stared at him for a moment, seemingly at loss. She then reached out for Ezra again, her warm hand grasping his. “Cause you have the same eyes of the lost boy I knew long ago, and we have come to take him home.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“The lost boy is you, Kid,” Zeb huffed out, crossing his arms as if in annoyance but his eyes had a soft glow to them as he regarded the boy. 

“B-But why?” His voice cracked, going up a few pitches. “I… I betrayed you guys! I killed Kanan!”

Ezra pulled away from Sabine’s gentle touch, his stomach twisting uncomfortable and he suddenly felt as if he could not breath. He did not deserve this! He couldn’t have deserved this! His stomach churned and he wished that they would just kick him already or anything to punish him for his betrayal and weakness.

But they didn’t. 

Sabine took her helmet off, and looked at Ezra with a worried expression. “You did not kill Kanan, Ezra… Pryce was the one the blew up the fuel tank.”

Ezra let out a hollow laugh and shook his head, his eyes stinging from tears. “You don’t get it, do you… if she had not interfered, I-I would have killed him myself!”

The words stumbled out, and yet he could not believe them. Back then, he had still hesitated despite believing that killing the past was the only way to be free. Even though Ezra had not followed through with his initial intent, the night ended with the same results. Kanan had died, even if it wasn’t directly by his hands.

“Well,” Sabine sighed, seeing that Ezra was going to be too stubborn to convince right away. “Kanan would have wanted you to come home either way. That’s why we returned here, other than freeing Lothal of course.”

“Besides, I think you’re kind of an enemy of the Empire right now,” Zeb added, lightly kicking the body of the Inquisitor, his lips pulled back in disgust. “Kind of wished I was the one that ended this wretched thing’s life though.”

The tears started spilling before Ezra could stop them. He did not deserve this treatment but the warmth from the words and Force was overwhelming and he found himself breaking. “I’m sorry!” He wailed out. “I’m so so sorry!”

Zeb and Sabine kneeled beside him, placing a hand on him in comfort. “Come, Kid,” Zeb said. “Let’s get you home.”

Seeing that they would not be dissuaded from their goals, Ezra nodded and allowed Sabine to help him to his feet. He sniffled as he cleaned his face and stayed still for a moment as he tried to compose himself. 

“Wait,” he said, his voice still trembling. Ezra walked towards the Rukh who laid unconscious on the ground after grabbing one of Sabine’s blasters from its holster. He did not want to do this as it was not very light-side-like, but knew in the long term, it was for the best. He aimed at Rukh’s chest and fired. The body flinched but it quickly went slack.

“Why’d you do that for?” Sabine asked, her brows furrowed. 

“I think it’s for the best to let them think I am either captured or dead along with the Inquisitor,” Ezra said as he turned towards the Inquisitor. “We will bury the Inquisitor. It’ll be too obvious that I was not captured otherwise.”

“Hmm,” Sabine hummed in agreement. “Zeb.”

Zeb grumbled as he snatched up the Inquisitor up and dragged the body to the dirt. Ezra already began digging, using the Force to create a hole in the ground. Zeb dumped the Inquisitor down, and the body landed with a heavy thud. Ezra hesitated a moment, taking one last look at the Inquisitor before covering the body with dirt. 

A hand came onto Ezra’s shoulder and he suppressed a flinch. “It’s over now,” the warm voice of Sabine said. “Let’s go home.”

Ezra nodded numbly at the words, but did not move right away. 

“Kid, you coming?” Zeb called out and Ezra finally willed himself to move, swallowing the lump away in his throat.

“What if the rest do not want me back?” Ezra asked, his voice weak. 

“What are you talking about? Of course they want you back!” Sabine said, one eyebrow raised. 

Ezra walked towards them and their speeders, but stopped in his tracks. “Wait, I have to get something,” he said and looked towards the communications tower in the distance. “It’s… It’s by the grave you guys made for me.”

Zeb and Sabine shared a skeptical glance but nodded anyways. The drive to the grave was a short but silent one and Ezra was grateful for it. His mind was in enough turmoil as it was and the silence gave him to calm his emotions down, finally having dried his tears.

When they had reached the site, Ezra dug out the tablet as hastily as he could, wanting nothing more than to leave this place. Having Zeb and Sabine stand behind him set his nerves alight with nervous energy and weighed his shoulders down with a heavy conscience. It was somewhat of a reminder that it should be Ezra in the grave, not him undigging it while dressed in inquisitor garbs. Another nod towards his betrayal.

He inwardly sighed in relief when his fingers brushed against the stone and he hastily grabbed the artifact, brushing off the remaining dirt. Sabine and Zeb leaned over Ezra to take a closer look at what the boy was holding.

“What is that?” Sabine asked, looking at the slab of rock in confusion. 

“Looks like some piece of rock,” Zeb said, earning a scowl from the Mandalorian.

“I actually got it from Loth-wolves,” Ezra answered as he scratched the back of his neck, slightly flustered at how bizarre his answer may have sounded.

“You were visited by the wolves, too?” Sabine asked and Ezra looked at her surprised. “Yeah, Kanan decided to befriend them a while back.”

“Can we talk about this later  _ after _ we returned back to base?” Zeb said, frowning with impatience. “Don’t need a probe droid or something else spotting us out here.”

“Yeah, agreed.”

Ezra went on the back of Sabine’s speeder, clutching the stone tightly in his arms. The key to his redemption.

It felt odd to think that he was on his way… home. And was overcome by a sudden wave of anxiety. It almost felt as if he could wake up only to find that this had all just been a dream, and that he was back in the dark fortress on Nur. The thought made his insides squirm and he desperately tightened his grip on the stone as if to ground himself, reminding him that all of this was real. 

All he could do for now was to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment that mostly everyone had been waiting for... 22 chapters and the death of Kanan later, Ezra is finally going home.   
> Thank you for reading :)


	23. Rebel's camp

It was mid morning by the time they drew near to the rebel’s base. They had stopped halfway for a quick nap, but Ezra could not sleep. He had spent the entire night looking up at the scattered stars as his weary body fought to stay awake.

Everytime he closed his eyes, Kanan would be consumed by the fire all over again and then the Inquisitor would come to hunt Ezra down, his cruel laughter echoing all around him. Ezra would run and run until he fell down an endless pit of darkness and his bloodshot eyes would snap open, panting as sweat rolled down his face. 

The tiredness did nothing to ease the growing anxiety as he watched the approaching hills where he knew was their destination. It was no wonder that the Empire did not find them. The rebels were halfway across the planet, much further than they could have ever expected. And now, he would have to face the rest of the Spectres… Hera and Chopper.

The thought of Hera twisted his insides. He remembered her screaming out for Kanan, her voice desperate and shrill, when just moments before she was confessing her love for him. Ezra’s throat tightened and his heart felt heavy, Kanan had used his last breath for the boy, not for his lover. 

Ezra wished that he could turn around and hide away in shame. He could not face Hera knowing what he had taken away for her, but it began to look like that was inevitable as the speeder slowed down when they reached a cave entrance. Taking deep gulps of air, Ezra tried not to hyperventilate as he looked down the daunting tunnel. His mind raced with a million thoughts, drowning him in overwhelming guilt. He flinched when he felt someone touch his shoulder and wrenched himself away from the hand.

Sabine looked at him with a worried look and he felt guilty for reacting such a way. “Ezra, is everything okay?”

Ezra swallowed, and averted his eyes, unwilling to look at the undeserved concern filled eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed out, “I’m fine.”

“You know, Hera wants you home just as much as anyone else,” she said as she offered her hand. “As much as Kanan did.”

Ezra hesitated but eventually placed his hand in hers and allowed her to guide him through the tunnel. They reached the end where the cave ended, opening up to a narrow ledge along the mountainside. The view was breathtaking and for a moment, Ezra had lost himself in the scenery, feeling a calmness wash over him as he gazed at the yellow-green grasses that swept across the plains amongst Lothal’s infamous rock formations.

A gasp pulled Ezra’s attention away from the landscape and he turned to see Hera covering her mouth with both hands, her greens eyes wide. His stomach dropped and if it weren’t for his legs being paralysed in fear, Ezra would have bolted back down the tunnel. He only started breathing again, gasping, when Hera pulled him in for a hug, her tears dampening Ezra’s neck as he stood there stiffly. 

After a few seconds of standing still, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around Hera, suddenly feeling as broken as she did. Tears sprang from his tired eyes as he pulled her closer, feeling the warmth of a mother for the first time in years. It was so gentle and tender in comparison to the punishing touches of the Inquisitor and Vader, whose cold and cruel hands broke his body and mind.

Ezra felt as if he had become weak in allowing himself to become this emotional, but at the same time, he had found himself not minding it.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed out, burying his face deeper into Hera’s shoulder, shuddering with every breath. “I’m so,  _ so _ sorry!”

Hera tightened her grip slightly before pulling away, keeping both hands on Ezra as she studied him through teary eyes. She gently cupped his face and shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry… you’re home now and that is all that matters.”

“No!” Ezra said quickly, the loudness of his voice making everyone, including himself, flinch. “I mean… no, I… I know that nothing I say or do will ever make up for the things I’ve done… How I had hurt you guys, and… Kanan-”

“Shh.” Hera placed a finger against Ezra’s lips, cutting him off. He could feel the grief in the Force at the mention of Kanan, even though she tried her best to keep her face warm and happy. “We will speak later. You are tired and must rest. Come.”

The boy inwardly flinched, feeling the shadow of doubt rise. He could not bring himself to blame her for not wanting to speak to him now, especially after what had happened, but did nothing when Hera encouraged Ezra to move forward with a gentle hand on her back, the touch felt almost like it was burning his flesh and it took everything not to flinch away. She guided him along the cliffside until they came across one of the many cave entrances that led to a small room. At the far side, there was a makeshift bed on the floor with mix-matched, worn out blankets. 

“I know it’s not much, but you can use this to sleep on for now.”

Ezra took a hesitant step forward to the bed, but stopped. He looked back with frightened eyes and Hera’s face softened in understanding. Shame blossomed in his chest, knowing he shouldn’t be asking this much of her, but could not help it. He felt desperate for more of the warmth of a mother that he had felt earlier, greedily wanting to latch onto it and basking in its tenderness. Ezra gave a small, grateful smile, hoping to cover the excruciating agony clawing at him from within and laid down. 

“Don’t worry, I’m here for you,” Hera whispered as she sat down beside the bed, running her fingers through his hair. “You are safe now.”

The warmth of the words and the comforting touch, Ezra’s eyelids drooped, unable to fight off sleep any longer.

When Ezra awoke, the sun was high in the sky, shifting shadows through the narrow opening, and he knew it to be mid-day. He was alone, he realised, although he could hardly blame Hera for leaving. Having to be in his presence must be hard enough. 

He walked through the archway of the room and decided to go deeper into the cave system rather than to the ledge, and froze when he heard a voice. It was Hera’s. Biting his lips, he decided to follow it and his heart dropped at the sight. Hera was kneeling in front of a small stone table just below a cave painting, holding the wooden artifact he had seen Thrawn carry a few days prior.

She gently ran her fingers over an arm of the statue before placing it on the table with a sigh. “Now Kanan will always be part of the family,” she softly murmured to Chopper who gave a sad beep in agreement. 

Ezra felt throat constrict, suddenly unable to breathe as he was overcome with guilt. He must have made some noise when he stumbled slightly forward when his knees buckled, causing Chopper to turn around with a sound of surprise.

“Ezra,” Hera greeted, her voice slightly strained, and quickly wiped away at her moistened eyes. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

He didn’t say anything, not trusting his voice to speak without betraying his emotions, and approached the altar. Ezra was unwilling to meet Hera’s gaze, and instead, he focused on the objects neatly organised on the rock. There was a lock of brown hair, still bundled with a hair tie, along with the artifact that the Twi’lek held moments ago, and a green mask decorated with silver eyes. They had all belonged to Kanan, he realised. This was a memorial altar that Hera had built in honour of the fallen Jedi.

With trembling hands, his fingers brushed against Kanan’s lightsaber that hung on his belt. This did not belong to him, and never will. Unhooking it, Ezra held it out to Hera, still keeping his eyes casted down. 

“It was Kanan’s,” the boy managed to choke out. “You should be the one to have it.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, tentatively wrapping her fingers around the lightsaber as if it would break should she tighten her hold. She brought it close to her chest in a loving gesture much like a hug. “You know, Kanan had temporarily stopped using his lightsaber after we had thought we lost you. He thought he did not deserve to wield the blade, unfit for the title of Jedi, a protector and peacekeeper. For so long, he had carried the burden of self-blame of what had happened to you, even after finding out that you were the Thirteenth Brother.”

Her voice was broken, laced with a deep sorrow. The words rang in Ezra’s mind amongst the sea of turmoil. Kanan had blamed himself for so long for something that hadn’t even been his fault and the thought clawed at the boy’s insides like a vicious beast. It was because of him that the Jedi had to live the last two and a half years in pain before perishing at the hands of the Empire, which had also been Ezra’s fault. 

The train of thoughts was broken when Hera placed a hand on his shoulder, staring worryingly at the boy, whose face was twisted with horror. “Come, let’s introduce you to the others and eat a warm meal while at it.”

Ezra barely felt himself nod in agreement as the Twi’lek guided him back outside and towards a small campfire along the cliffside. He recognised most of the people sitting in a small circle, Zeb and Sabine sitting next to one another and beside the Mandalorian sat the boy he recognised from the patrol gunship on the night of Kanan’s death. Next to him, sat an older man with white hair and beard. Ezra did not recognise this man, but he certainly recognised the boy.

“Ezra Bridger!” The man exclaimed as he stood up. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t seem to remember who you are,” Ezra frowned, skimming quickly over his memories in hopes of finding information, but found none.

The man gave a hearty laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t expect you to. Last I’ve seen you, you were only a little boy about yea high. I knew your parents, they were good people and spoke of you a lot. You were their hope during the darkest of times.”

_ Were _ . Ezra had always known his parents to be dead, having been told by the Inquisitor himself, but after finding out that the past two and a half years was all just a fabricated lie, he thought that perhaps… Of course, the traitorous voice had been nothing more than wishful thinking of a broken boy. 

“My parents… they’re dead, aren’t they?” It was more a statement, rather than a question. 

“I’m sorry,” the man said with sympathy and Hera gave Ezra’s shoulder a squeeze.

“No, it’s… it’s okay. Deep down, I had always known…” and that the Inquisitor had been telling the truth, but he did not want to mention that part. There was a small, awkward moment of silence where no one knew how to respond before the man gestured to a seat.

“Come sit, join us.” 

Once Ezra and Hera took seats, the man leaned forward, his blue eyes sparkling in the fire’s glow. “I’m Ryder Azadi, by the way. Former governor of Lothal. This here,” Ryder gestured to the man sitting beside him, “Is Wedge Antilles.”

“Hey,” Wedge greeted with a small, awkward wave. Ezra gave a small smile in return, suddenly feeling nervous to be around new people who had not known him while he had still been Spectre Six. It was bad enough that he was dressed in his inquisitor garbs, branded with the emblem of the Galactic Empire, while sitting amongst rebels. As if somehow sensing his discomfort, Chopper wedged himself between the Twi’lek and the boy, and grabbed Ezra’s clothing in an act of reassurance. It was a small gesture, but heartfelt all the same, remembering all the times the droid had made snarky comments to him and had even attempted murder as a joke a few times.

“Here’s some grub,” Zeb said as he offered two bowls of warm for the newcomers and Ezra took it with some hesitance.

He looked down at the bowl’s contents, trying to remember when it was the last time he actually had a real meal. It had been so long, having had nothing but horribly bland nutrient packets or shakes and on very rare occasions, fruit, that the smell of the soup alone made his mouth salivate and stomach growl. He lifted up the spoon, but he faltered when it was just centimetres away from his parted lips. How could he deserve to eat such a nice meal among the people he had betrayed? Why were they being kind to him, giving him a place to sleep and food to eat as if he hadn’t tried to kill them a few nights ago?

Lowering his spoon, Ezra suddenly did not feel hungry anymore, his stomach churning with anxiety. 

“You okay?” Hera asked when she noticed that the boy wasn’t eating and his gaze snapped to her before averting away.

“Yeah,” he lied, “Just tired.”

“You should still try and eat,” she urged, “It’ll give you back your strength.”

Ezra knew there was no point in disregarding her suggestion. If there was anything he remembered, it was that Hera was a very very stubborn mom. Inwardly sighing, he reluctantly brought a spoon to his mouth with the pace of a snail, only delaying the imminent bite. The guilt still weighed heavily down on his tongue, but dampened when the explosive flavor of soup took over his mouth and it was only then that he realised how hungry he really was. Ezra had forgotten how a home cooked meal tasted like and greedily brought more to his lips, drowning the contents of the bowl almost too quickly, nearly causing himself to choke.

“Slow down there, Kid,” Zeb chuckled out when the boy began to cough. “The food won’t go away, there will always be seconds.”

“Yeah,” Ezra mumbled out when he finally regained composure, a faint blush painting his cheeks in embarrassment. He must have looked like a ravaged, stray hound eating scraps. In the end, he did grab seconds, although he made sure to eat it much slower this time. 

“There is a natural spring,” Sabine spoke up when Ezra put down his empty bowl. “You can use it to refresh yourself.”

“And I can lend you some clean clothes,” Wedge added, getting up from his seat. “Hold on, I’ll go grab them.”

The boy was gone before Ezra could even protest and he sunk back into his seat. Looking down at his clothing, he didn’t blame them for their suggestions. He was covered in dirt and grim, and he definitely did not smell the best, his nose scrunching at the sour stench. It was not long before Wedge returned and handed over neatly folded clothes to Ezra. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, not meeting the boy’s gaze as he got up. Again, something twisted inside of him at their kindness towards him.

“Any time,” Wedge said, smiling as he returned to his seat. Ezra got up and was about to leave the group behind when a voice stopped him.

“Wait,” Sabine called out after him, “I can show you where the spring is. It’ll be a lot faster than having to wander around.”

She flashed him a smile as he walked by him, one in which Ezra could not return, no matter how hard he had tried. He followed her along the ledge, occasionally glancing over towards the landscape. It was winter on Lothal and the sun had already begun setting in the distance, casting its last tendrils of warmth before allowing the cold shadows to take its place. He didn’t realise he had stopped moving until a warm hand touched his shoulder and he turned to see Sabine’s worried face. 

He gave a reassuring smile that never reached his eyes and walked past her, disappearing into the darkening cave entrance. The tunnel soon opened up to a wide cavern, lit only by a small lamp near the edge of the pool of water. The spring was filled with running water that trickled out from a narrow crack in the wall of the cave before overflowing into another hole in the rock formation.

“This is it,” Sabine said, awkwardly, leaning against the entrance. She gave him a knowing look before adding, “If you ever need anything, let us know. We are here for you.”

With that, she was gone, leaving Ezra alone with his thoughts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a slow chapter, but things will pick up in the next chapter. Thank you for reading :)


	24. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The horrors of the past catches up with Ezra

Ezra began to unclip his armor, allowing the shoulder pads to carelessly fall to the floor. The Imperial emblem glared back at him mockingly, taunting him of the fact he had spent over the last two years being nothing more than the Emperor’s loyal dog, hunting down the very friends he had betrayed. He gritted his teeth as he forced his gaze away from the burning insignia and continued to undo his chest plate, followed by his bracers and belt. The cold bit at his skin when he peeled off his shirt, feeling suddenly less restrained, enabling him to breathe easier. The rest of the clothing soon followed, and he kicked them into the far corner, not able to stand the sight of them any longer. He would like nothing more than for them to be casted away into the abyss, taking his memories along with them. 

But he knew that was not how life worked, and he forced himself to move towards the spring, placing his lightsaber near the edge out of habit; one could never be too prepared in case of an attack. Ezra shivered as he eased himself into the frigid waters, much too cold to enjoy. Gradually, he allowed himself to relax and lean back against the rim once he got used to the temperature and stared at the ceiling in hopes of distracting himself. 

It was decorated with the same art that he had seen throughout the cave system, Loth-wolves running amongst people-like figures, dancing around individuals with halos around their heads. What it represented, Ezra did not know and he did not feel the need to figure it out at the moment, and instead, he closed his eyes. Despite having slept for a few hours prior, he felt exhausted. It was quite emotionally draining to be here amidst the Spectres. There was a constant nagging feeling scratching relentlessly at the back of his mind, whispering that he did not belong here. That he did not deserve being here. And it was starting to get to him.

The rebels had been nothing but kind to him. It was almost as if Ezra hadn’t betrayed them by becoming an inquisitor; almost as if he had never left in the first place; almost as if he hadn’t tortured and killed innocent lives.

He gripped tightly at the lip of the spring as if it were his lifeline, the sharp edges of rock jabbing into the flesh of his left hand, whereas it remained merely a dull ache in his right.

A cold chill seeped deep within his bones, causing Ezra to shudder as he wrapped his arms around himself. The room seemed to have gotten darker, the light dimming as if it were a candle on its last few breaths, and the shadows creeped ever closer. Within that darkness, he could hear them. The screams of the souls cut down by his very hands. They were so loud that it was almost deafening, wailing and writhing in pain and anger as they reached out for Ezra with decaying hands. 

Then, a deep mechanical breathing overpowered the cries, growing louder and louder as the tall shadow swept across the floor with deadly grace until it was looming over Ezra’s back like a black wall. The rugged rocks that built up the chamber walls became illuminated by a brilliant red glow when a lightsaber came to life with a  _ hiss-snap _ , causing the boy’s eyes to burst open as warning bells blared within him. The water splashed as Ezra dived to the other side of the small bath, twisting his body to face the terror of his nightmare. Grabbing and activating his own lightsaber, his frightened eyes wildly scanned for the enemy, only to see the reflection of himself staring back, smiling cruelly with gleaming yellow eyes.

Ezra gasped, nearly dropping his lightsaber from the shock, and within a blink of an eye, the shadow of his former self was gone. The screams, however, were still there, though more muted than before as if nothing more than whispers carried by the distant winds, and it took him a minute or two to realise that they were coming from his lightsaber. And it took him even longer to deduce that it was the kyber crystal howling in pain.  _ His _ pain.

He threw the lightsaber away as if the mere touch of the metal scorched his hand and it clattered in the far end of the room. Ezra felt slightly guilty for treating his weapon in such a manner, but the overwhelming sensation of agony and sorrow overpowered any regret had felt. His breaths were in ragged pants as his wide eyes stared at the hilt that laid innocently on the ground in mocking silence. Even now, he could feel the cold pull to the dark side, the anger of the Thirteenth Brother that remained rooted in the back of his mind. 

Unable to stay in the water any longer, Ezra scrambled out of the spring and hastily put on the borrowed clothes. Even though they consisted of loose trousers and a tunic, they felt even heavier than his inquisitor garbs, clinging to his wet skin as if attempting to drag him further down. The effort left him breathless and he wearily looked towards his lightsaber before picking it up, using his dirty clothes as if to protect himself from the kyber crystal itself. Once wrapped, Ezra quickly ran out of the bathing chambers and down the long corridors to the direction he knew the room he had slept in earlier was. 

“Ezra, I was just about to-” Zeb said when he spotted the boy making his way down the tunnel, but Ezra ignored the Lasat as he sprinted past him. Worried green eyes followed him, but he could not deal with any of them right now.

Relief had found him when he finally plopped down onto the makeshift bed he was borrowing after throwing his stuff into the corner of the room. He, fortunately, had not run into anyone else and Zeb had not attempted to follow him, perhaps knowing that the boy was in no shape or form to hold a conversation. For that, he felt somewhat grateful.

Tears rolled down his flushed cheeks, his eyes already swollen from crying on the way here, and he pulled the blankets over his head, making a protective cocoon. He did not belong here, but for some reason, he also could not bring himself to leave. It was a selfish desire, one that of a lost child from long ago, wanting nothing more than to be with his family. He tightened his hold on the blankets, feeling as if he was nothing more than the broken boy back in the dark cell in Fortress Inquisitorius. 

He closed his burning eyes, and willed the thoughts and feeling away in hopes for sleep to come. But sleep did not come to embrace him. Instead, the screams of the crystals returned, pulling and tearing at his mind as he tossed and turned, unable to escape the horrors of the past. The Inquisitor’s cruel laugh as he tortured and mocked Ezra. The gentle touches when the Inquisitor tended to his wounds under false pretenses, lying and manipulating all the while encouraging Ezra’s flame of hate to grow. 

Then there were the memories of the victims, whose lives he had taken much like how the Empire had done to him, who restlessly grabbed at him. Their claws sank painfully into his flesh, pulling him under the wicked waves in their sea of sorrow. Their cries, begging for the mercy that had fallen deaf upon his ears, now rang so loudly that even covering his head did nothing to block out their shrieks and it did nothing to lessen the weight of the crimes he had committed. 

They were all dead by his hands. The unknown Jedi, Teepo, Lunara, Irek, Inquisitor, and many more… and then there was Kanan. The man he had once looked up to, regarding him as a father figure that he had longed for since the loss of his own parents. And now, he was gone, ripped out from the loving arms of the Spectres. Still, Kanan had still gone out of his way moments before his death in an attempt to save Ezra. Ezra, the boy who had tried nothing but to hurt, not only the Jedi, but the  _ Ghost  _ crew as well, hunting them down for a revenge that didn’t even exist.

Now, despite all of that, the Spectres were acting as if Ezra had done nothing wrong. Smiling and joking as they offered him a warm home cooked meal, showing him where he could wash himself after offering him clean clothes and a bed.

Ezra wailed as he clawed at his head in hopes to dispel the darkness seeping into him, but it was a futile effort. The torment dragged on all night long, leaving him nothing more than an empty shell. His skin was stained with dried tears as his red, swollen eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling, watching as the light chase away the shadows. The warmth, however, brought no comfort to the stricken child. 

Sighing, Ezra knew that he wasn’t going to get any sleep and reluctantly sat up, rubbing his irritated eyes. His cheeks felt sticky from having been crying all night and his lips were dry to the touch, the skin peeling from dehydration. The tunic clung to his body with sweat, making it appear as if he had just gotten out of the spring, and he felt guilty at dirtying a piece of clothing that wasn’t his; a piece of kindness that he knew he did not deserve, and somehow, yet again, he had ruined it. 

Deciding that he should at least clean the shirt before returning it, Ezra got to his feet and peeled the top off, the morning crisp air wrapping itself around him, earning a shiver from the boy. He resisted the urge to rub his hands against his arms for warmth as he began to fold the piece of clothing. A gasp from behind him startled Ezra, causing him to drop the shirt as he instinctively called for his lightsaber, igniting it as he twisted around to face his opponent.

Shocked, he dropped his lightsaber, shame replacing the weapon when he saw the wide eyes of Sabine and Hera. Ezra felt overcome with the sudden rise of shame of his body, wanting nothing more than to hide away from the peering gazes. He knew that he looked disgusting, deformed to the perfect image of what the Empire represented; scars littering across his body from his punishments and his right hand now nothing more than glaring black metal against tanned skin. 

Hastily, Ezra grabbed the damp tunic on the floor and put it on upon realising that had caught a glimpse of the burns that scarred his back. But as he saw the shift of emotion in their eyes, he lowered his arms in defeat, his eyes averted. 

They had seen  _ it _ . 

He could feel their disgust and horror in the Force and he wished that they had not seen the proof of his betrayal that marred his skin. Hera moved closer, reaching out but Ezra flinched away, causing her to falter in her action. 

“Does it still hurt?” Hera asked, barely a whisper, her voice quivering slightly. Ezra spared her the briefest of glances, her expression not matching the emotions he sensed in the Force.

“It’s nothing,” he quickly answered, struggling to find his voice. But they were not nothing… they were everything… a reminder of his betrayal… of his solitude within the darkness… his penance. It was his burden to carry, alone, for as long as he would live. 

“That’s not nothing!” Hera’s sudden outburst startled him. He had rarely ever seen the Twi’lek succumb to anger, or at least not during his brief time with the  _ Ghost _ crew. She saw him flinch, and her facial expression softened with guilt. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been hurt, and that you are  _ still _ hurting.”

Her voice was much softer, and the warm tones washed over him with a mother’s love. He bit his trembling lips, the storm within brewing into a hurricane. Ezra couldn’t hold back another flinch when Hera placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and looked at him with affectionate eyes.

“You should have never had to go through that pain alone,” she continued, and Ezra could tell that she was having a difficult time fighting back her tears. “We… we should have been there for you.”

Ezra pulled away from her burning touch and turned his head, he did not deserve this. “It’s  _ fine _ , really,” he bit out, the words coming out colder, more aggressive, than he had intended. He did not know how much longer he could hold back the turmoil rising within him.

“It’s  _ not _ fine!” Sabine exclaimed, finally speaking for the first time, blinking away the moisture from her eyes, as she took a step closer. “None of this is fine!”

She couldn’t finish to voice what the Empire had done to him, what they were capable of doing to a mere boy. She brought her slender hands up to her mouth as she tried to hold back her sobs, she had to be strong, she could barely imagine the torment Ezra had had to go through. It was then that Ezra wished that he had run away during the night rather than having to face this confrontation and relive the horrors of his past. He grinded his teeth, the Mandalorian warrior was always so strong and it caused him great remorse to see her like this because of him, struggling so openly to hold back her tears, to try to be strong for him. 

“I don’t even realise it’s there,” he gritted out. It was just another lie, of course, they came naturally to him now. He could feel the weight of the scar on his back every day, the burning heat of the lightsaber as the Inquisitor carved it into his flesh. Ezra had never looked at his own reflection again, not after his violent initial reaction to the sight of the branding. He did not need to see it to know that it was there. “And it doesn’t really matter anymore, anyways.”

_ It will never change what I’ve done _ .

It would remain on his body, serving as a reminder of the horrible crimes he had committed and his betrayal to his family. The mark of the Empire would forever serve as a mocking presence breathing down his neck, forcing him to relive the horrendous events of his past. 

“What if the branding can be covered?” Sabine suddenly said after a moment of silence. Ezra looked up at her in surprise before frowning in doubt.

“That could work,” Hera agreed, bringing her hand up to her chin as she looked thoughtfully at Sabine. “Kareen used to do that type of work before being enslaved by the Empire. I can go find her, I am certain she would help.”

Ezra did not know who this Kareen person was or what she had done to instill such excitement from the two women. 

_ Why would they even consider helping me. Going this extra mile to help me when I didn't even ask for it, after all that I've done. _

As the pair continued to further discuss plans that Ezra could not fully comprehend, the hurricane within him continued to grow, growing too strong until it became too much, blowing at the feeble remains of his walls as they finally crumbled away. He collapsed to the ground, his fists balled as tears trickled down his cheeks. 

“Why?” He wailed out, causing Hera and Sabine to be silenced by the sudden change in his mood. “Why are you being so kind to me?!”

“What are-?” Hera began, but Ezra cut her off, not wanting to listen to such genuine words.

“You guys all act like I haven’t been trying to kill you barely three days ago! As if I hadn’t intended to kill Kanan if that blast hadn’t taken him first!” Ezra yelled, his throat raw and his shoulders shuddering from the exertion. “Damn it!” He cursed as he slammed his fist against the floor, “Why…?!” his body heaved with uncontrollable tears. "Why?" He whispered once again, his voice echoing his broken emotions.

The silence that formed after his outburst was nearly unbearable. Ezra wanted nothing more for them to scream. To yell at him in outrage. To accuse him for what he had done. How could they show him so much compassion after all of the horror he had put them through?

He was so consumed by his own guilt and anguish that he didn't sense Hera approaching him. He couldn't even comprehend her touch until her loving warmth was too much to ignore, causing him to erupt into nonsensical tears once more. 

“Ezra, we...” she began before trailing off, her voice filled with uncertainty on how to console the child. 

"How can you be so kind to me after all that I have done?" The question plagued Ezra’s mind, he had to know.

“We thought you were dead." Hera stated simply, those few words carrying the weight of years in them. "For the longest time, we shouldered the blame for what had happened on Stygeon Prime, asking ourselves what we could have done differently… what we could have done to save you. But... when we found you alive, it felt like we were given a second chance to make things right, to fix what we had broken. Even though you had become an inquisitor, sent to fight us and our cause, we had no one else to blame but ourselves for what you had been forced to become."

She paused, giving Ezra time to fully understand what she was trying to get across to him. To pave a path, albeit still flimsy, across the dark void Ezra had surrounded himself in a hopeless attempt to protect himself.

"Ezra," the way she said his name brought back memories long locked away, of a time when he was still that innocent boy protected by the love of his parents on Lothal. "We  _ never _ blamed you for anything. We could never do that- It  _ wasn’t _ your fault.”

The words weighed heavily on the boy’s mind as he wiped away the falling tears. “I… I just wish that the Inquisitor never took me away,” Ezra croaked out, keeping his head hung down in shame. “That I could have held out longer, to have continued believing in you guys… in Kanan.” 

This time, when Hera reached out again, she cupped the boy’s damp cheek, forcing him to look up at her and Sabine, who had also joined them on the floor. Her eyes were soft and swollen from crying silent tears.

“Thinking like that won’t change the things that have happened. It took us adults a long time to learn that lesson. What has happened is  _ not _ your fault." Hera repeated, like a mantra, as if the more she said it, the more the boy would come to believe it as well. "You were  _ not _ weak to have given into their manipulation and torture." With unwavering hands she pulled him towards her, allowing his warm tears to seep through her shirt, as if her small arms could ward off any further harm from reaching him. "I’m just happy that you are here.”

“We all are,” Sabine added, sniffling. 

Ezra was in a numb stupor, unable to react to any of their words.  _ They were  _ happy  _ to have him back? _ Ezra thought to himself, over and over again, unable to believe it.  _ They were  _ actually _ happy he was back? _

The words brought a deep sense of happiness, a warmth that he had been lacking for years, chasing away the iciness left behind by the cold sting of the Inquisitor’s foul teachings. He couldn’t hold it back any more, floundering behind the tears he outstretched his arms, one around Hera, the other drawing Sabine closer, embracing them so tightly he dared anyone to try to take them away from him again. Sabine and Hera sat in silence, allowing the broken boy to shed the tears he’d held back for all these years, allowing him finally to begin to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, surprisingly, had a lot of fun writing this chapter.


	25. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra finally meets Kareen

As it turns out, Kareen apparently used to work as a tattoo artist a few years ago before the Empire had taken her as a slave for protesting, or at least according to Hera who explained this as they walked along the cliffside. The Spectres had crossed paths with her when they had taken over one of the crawlers which had burnt away the grasslands in search of minerals. There were other slaves amongst Kareen, in which one of them, much to Ezra’s surprise, was a familiar face.

They found Kareen sitting on top of one of the many crates that were littered across a widening in the cliffside near to where the crawler was parked. In her hands was a mug of warm caf, the aroma smelling pleasant in the early morning sun causing Ezra’s stomach to twist with hunger, and next to her sat none other than the one and only, Vizago. Upon spotting the approaching crew, they waved, grinning.

“Ezra!” Vizago exclaimed, jumping up from his seat, throwing his arms out in a wide gesture of welcome. “I haven’t seen you in ages! I thought that the Empire sent you to your grave!” He laughed. Ezra could only offer a small, awkward nod of his head in return, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so.

“What’s wrong? Loth cat got your tongue? Here, have some caf, you look like hell,” the Devaronian stated and the boy silently accepted the cup of warm coffee being offered.

“Kareen,” Hera greeted the woman sitting beside Vizago, giving a warm smile. “We have a delicate job that I think you would like- if you’re up for the challenge, that is.”

The middle-aged woman, whose hair had already started to grey and a few stress lines had already engraved themselves into her face, smiled ruely. “I’m always up for a challenge. What’s up?”

“How would you like to get back into tattooing?”

“Hmm, now that _ would _ be something,” Kareen said, her grey eyes sparkling with anticipation. “It’s been so long since I have tattooed anyone. And after you saved me from the Empire? I’d be happy to help you, Hera.”

“Actually,” Hera said, putting an arm around Ezra’s shoulders, “It’s for him.”

Ezra remained silent as the woman looked at him with renewed interest. 

“Aren’t you a little young to get a tattoo? You  _ do _ know it’s a life-long commitment, right?” She explained, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. Although Ezra knew the woman was addressing him, he was finding difficulty speaking. A younger Ezra would have thought that getting a tattoo would have been cool, admiring the ones that fellow thieves and criminals had proudly shown off, but now, the prospect filled Ezra with anxiety. However, the encouraging glance Hera spared him, gave him the courage to use his voice.

“Yes.” Was his short reply, but that one word filled him with confidence and the prospect of possibly hiding the heinous glare of the Empire that stained his back with art had piqued his interest. It would be naïve to think that guilt and shame did not still scratch at the corners of his mind, attempting to fill his thoughts with venom. However, the warmth of Hera’s arm, her closeness, was enough to keep them at bay for the time being, allowing the youth to focus on the present.

Kareen nodded her head, realising that there must be to the story than met the eye. “My apologies, Ezra was it?”

He simply nodded, not wanting to waste the little bravery he had managed to muster. 

“Have you given it any thought as to where you would like it done, dear?” She asked softly, leaning closer as she propped her elbows onto her knees. Ezra was acutely aware that he had captured even Vizago’s interest, the latter never having expected such a request from the boy. 

“Oh, uhm,” he faltered, suddenly having difficulty keeping his anxiety at bay. The words that he had wanted to speak were obstructed by the shame that constricted his throat. 

“It’s to cover a scar,” Hera gently put in, sensing the boy’s reluctance to elaborate further.

Kareen hummed thoughtfully to herself, finally getting a better picture of the real delicacy of the situation. “I can most likely do it, depending how well it has healed. But you see, I can’t do anything without my equipment.”

“And where would that be?” Sabine asked, speaking up for the first time since they had met up with Kareen and Vizago.

“It will most likely still be at my shop in Jalath,” she replied, biting her lower lip as she narrowed her eyes. “ _ If _ the Imperials haven’t already gotten their greedy little hands on it, that is.”

Jalath, that was a city a few hours southwest of Capital City, and that was already a day's travel from where they were. It seemed daunting and would take up much of their precious time, time that couldn’t be spared on collecting items that would be useless to their cause. Realising this, Ezra opened his mouth to call off the whole plan, telling them that it was okay and that the matter could wait until later. However, Hera and Sabine seemed less deterred by the task of traveling to Jalath than Ezra would have expected. In fact, they plunged into the idea wholeheartedly.

“That’s, like what, ten hours on a speederbike?” Sabine pondered, picturing the map of Lothal in her mind as she estimated the time it would take to get there.

“Look… if it’s too much of a hassle-” Ezra began, but Hear quickly cut him off.

“Ezra, this isn’t a hassle,” she smiled gently as she said this, squeezing his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “We have already told you that we are here for you, and will be there for you for every step of the way, and beyond that.”

Ezra blinked away the newly formed tears that threatened to spill, this time accepting their gesture of kindness with less resistance. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled out shyly, barely audible as he bit the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from smiling.

“Always,” her smile brightened as she caught a glimpse of the boy before he had been taken by the Empire.

“Would you mind showing me what I will be working with?” The human asked, causing the boy to shy away once again, the inkling of a smile that had played on his lips instantly vanished as he bit them nervously. He did not feel comfortable exposing the mark in such an open area under the intense scrutiny of Vizago and the other rebels he did not know that roamed the area. Sensing Ezra’s discomfort, Sabine came to his rescue.

“How about we go somewhere a little bit more private?”

“Of course,” Kareen readily agreed, hopping down from her perch upon the crate. She was a lot shorter than Ezra had anticipated, reaching only to his shoulder as she gestured to Hera, “Lead the way.”

The Twi’lek nodded and started to lead them back to the narrowing ledge, towards the now familiar cave system. As he looked around the room that had been dedicated to Kanan’s memory, his eyes swept over the drawings that depicted Loth-wolves and something tugged at Ezra’s own memories. His mind wandered back to the stone that was propped up against the cave entrance near the speederbikes. However, Ezra’s thoughts were cut short by Kareen’s sudden question.

“Sorry?” Having missed what the woman had said as he was dragged back to the presence. 

“So, what type of scar is it?” She repeated patiently. 

“Uhm… It’s a burn,” Ezra explained to her, feeling his stomach twist uncomfortably. Speaking about it made him feel flustered, causing his thoughts to jumble on themselves as his shame was, once again, brought to the forefront of his mind. However, standing before Kanan’s memories, he knew he had to be strong, not only for his family that stood by his side, but also for those that had been taken away from him. 

“May I see it?” Kareen gingerly asked, watching the teen intently for any reaction that may indicate him being in any further discomfort. Instead of answering, Ezra slowly tugged at the hems of his tunic, another top borrowed from the few that Wedge had available, and pulled it up over his head before turning around to reveal the remnants of his pained past. There was a gasp and a spike of anger within the Force, making him shift nervously on his feet. He flinched when he felt a finger lightly trace the scar and the hand immediately pulled away as if it were still on fire. 

“I won’t pry,” Kareen promised from between her gritted teeth, her voice trembling with deep resentment for whatever monster had done this to a child. “But I can tell you that I can cover it up.”

Ezra wished he didn’t have to feel the pity that came after the initial wave of anger from the woman, and he couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look into Kareen’s eyes. Knowing that she was done studying the scar, he hastily put his shirt back on, feeling much too vulnerable. A part of him, however, felt somewhat relieved that he could cover it up, and although it may be a superficial solution, it was one nonetheless. 

“Have you given any thought as to what you would like tattooed?”

Ezra opened his mouth as if to answer, but instead, quickly shook his head. 

Catching Ezra’s reaction kareen asked again, more insistent this time.

“I was hoping that Sabine could perhaps design something,” Ezra confessed, his blue eyes finally looking up at the surprised Mandalorian. “If that’s okay.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Sabine said, touched by the boy’s words.

“If that’s settled, then I suggest we prepare to leave for Jalath,” Kareen pipped up after a long moment of silence, “The sooner we go, the better.”

Her words made Ezra realise how real the situation was, that it was all actually happening, and he suddenly found himself slipping away into his anxiety once again. The Loth-wolves’s mission still weighed heavily on his mind, and he knew that it  _ had _ to be done. It was the only way he could think of redeeming himself.

Ezra opened and closed his mouth several times, hoping to spit out the words lodged within his throat. He had to tell them to delay the trip, that he had to do something important first, but the words refused to form.

“Great, then I will prep the bikes,”Sabine continued, oblivious to Ezra’s struggle, and she turned to leave.

“Wait!” Ezra exclaimed, his voice much louder than he had anticipated as the word tumbled out, finally giving into the swell of angst. The women turned to him in surprise at his sudden outburst. Having all eyes on him, he found himself shifting his weight from foot to foot, wanting nothing more than to run away. However, he had to face this. 

“Is something wrong?” Sabine asked when he faltered, his voice struggling to continue explaining. She took a step towards the boy in concern, and the rest looked equally as worried and confused at the boy’s sudden outburst.

“N-No… I can’t go, I have to do something,” he mumbled out, averting his gaze. He felt bad for having wasted their time like this, but the sudden urge to stop the Empire from whatever they were searching for at the temple was growing stronger with every passing second. As if being able to sense a deeper meaning to the tormented teenager’s statement, Kareen spoke up.

“I can see you guys need some time alone,” she cleared her throat and gave a small smile as she watched the young man as he avoided looking at any of them directly, the hem of his tunic suddenly appearing far more interesting. “You’ll know where to find me once you’ve made a decision.”

With that, she left the room and a heavy silence blanketed the remaining occupants. Ezra felt relieved that he was now only left with his family, feeling the constriction around his throat somewhat ease.

“What is it, Ezra?” Hera asked and it took him a moment to find his voice again, his tongue feeling like it weighed a tonne.

What if they did not approve of his side mission? 

What if he failed to redeem himself? 

What if they cast him out for his continuous failures? 

What if...

Taking a deep breath, he began to speak, knowing he could not keep silent forever. 

“I was given an artifact, which originated from a Jedi temple here on Lothal.”

“The slab of rock that the Loth-wolves gave you?” Sabine clarified, and Ezra nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, Dume said -”

“Wait,  _ Dume _ ?” It was the Twi’lek who interrupted him this time, her brows furrowed and her eyes wide, leaning in closer in a desperate search for answers. Ezra felt unnerved by her strong reaction, and knew there was more to it than what meets the eye.

“Y-Yeah… that was what the wolf called himself,” He stammered, and Hera leaned back, bringing her hands to her chin in deep thought. “Do you know him?”

“Dume… that was Kanan’s real name.  _ Caleb Dume _ ,” she repeated the name, her voice distant, lost in memories of long ago. 

Ezra’s brows furrowed, his mind flashing back to Dume. The Loth-wolf  _ did _ have an air of familiarity to him; the gleaming blue eyes that had held a depth of warmth in them; the symbol bared upon his forehead had matched the very same Jedi insignia on Kanan’s right shoulder pad. Could it be that the wolf, Dume, had in fact been Kanan somehow? Such a coincidence seemed immensely unlikely, but it fueled Ezra’s determination all the more to stop the Empire.

His resolve had now set in stone.

“Then I can’t wait any longer,” Ezra said, his face set with new determination at the possibility that this mission had been given to him by his late master, his real master. 

“Hold on! Ezra, what’s going on?” Hera asked, slightly frustrated with Ezra’s vagueness on the matter as he paced back and forth before the memorial. Whoever this Dume person was, her heart raced at his mention, twisting painfully at the prospect that whatever this task was, it was given by  _ her  _ Kanan. 

Sighing, the teen stopped pacing and looked at her, his apprehension bared for all to see.

“Dume gave me an artifact,” Ezra repeated, his voice strained with impatience. “He said that the Empire is after something dangerous at the temple. I  _ have _ to stop them.”

_ I have to redeem myself. _

“You’re not going to stop them,” Sabine said matter of factly and Ezra tensed, looking at her in bewilderment before his face twisted in anger as he opened his mouth to protest. “Not alone,” she hastily interrupted.

“We’re coming with you,” Hera agreed, her tone leaving no room for argument and Ezra relaxed, having misunderstood them. A sense of gratefulness washed over him, but he knew he couldn’t let them. It would be dangerous and he had no clue what the mission would entail.

“I have to go alone,” he insisted, crossing his arms with finality. Much to his astonishment, Sabine snorted. She  _ actually _ snorted, as if he were simply a toddler throwing some nonsensical tantrum.

“You’re not going anywhere alone, buddy,” She closed the distance between them and threw her arm around him, inwardly amazed at how much taller the boy had gotten over the past few years, he’d actually caught up to her!

Ezra tried to wiggle his way out of her grasp, feeling suddenly irked that they did not seem to understand the seriousness of the situation. She only tightened her hold and looked at him into his eyes as she said the next few words, “We’re a family, and if you’re gonna go on a dangerous mission, then we’re  _ all _ going on a dangerous mission.” Then she shrugged lightly. “Chopper may have something to say about that, but he has something to say about everything.”

“Especially if this was given by Kanan,” Hera said, “We’re doing this together.”

Ezra could not help but to give a small smile, having forgotten how stubborn his family could be. 

“Alright then, together,” he agreed, sighing as he allowed himself to relax in Sabine’s hold. “But you guys are explaining this to Chopper, not me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now Ezra will have to take the next big step towards healing himself, facing the new challenges that await for him.  
> Thank you for reading, until next time :)


	26. The Gateway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh... I cannot believe it's been almost 2 months since I last posted. It just has been so hectic and this chapter has been a thorn in my side lol  
> But here it is!

They loomed over the stone, deep in thought as they attempted to depict the meaning behind the three hand gestures. Sabine had left to inform Kareen about the situation before updating Zeb and Chopper while Ezra had gone and collected the artifact, which was in the exact same spot where he had left it the previous day. It weighed heavily in his hands, now knowing the full significance behind the mission. He placed it gently onto the floor where the Spectres had gathered to examine it. Thus far, their attempts to understand the imagery had been unsuccessful.

“Do you have any idea what they could mean?” Ezra asked Sabine, who had had the most experience with art out of all of them, and was the most likely to understand the symbolism behind the painting. However, she shook her head, frowning.

“No, but perhaps I can make more sense of it when I see the temple up close,” she replied and pulled her hand away from the symbols she had been tracing with her fingers. When the boy did not respond, she looked up at him, frowning even deeper. “You… you  _ do _ know where the Jedi temple is,  _ right  _ ?”

Ezra awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing how to proceed, because in truth, he hadn’t even known that Lothal had a Jedi Temple. So he settled on a simple no, giving a cheesy grin, once again the boy from before the Empire’s capture reappearing ever so slightly. “But I think the wolves can help me.”

Skeptical faces stared back at Ezra, making him feel all the more nervous. “You know… the wolves that helped you previously?”

Zeb rolled his eyes, “We know which wolves you’re talking about, Kid.”

“It’s more  _ how _ are we going to get the wolves to help,” Sabine added, one eyebrow raised, that was beyond any of their expertise.

Ezra did not blame them for their doubtfulness. He was not sure what he had planned would even work. He knew the wolves could find him whenever it suited them, however was their connection a two way streak? Would the Force even aid him in such a matter? Was he even worthy of such help? Or was his struggle meant to be part of his penance? 

“With the Force. Kanan, way back, attempted to teach me how to connect with other beings, but I think you all remember how well that worked out… However I can feel that these Loth-wolves have a deep connection with the Force. Perhaps, somehow, I can call them through it.”

They still looked at him with unconvinced gazes, but Ezra had no clue how to explain it in a way that non-Force users could understand… truthfully he didn’t fully understand how such connections worked either. However, seeing how much the boy really wished to try this, and aid them in their mission, they nodded their agreement, with that one gesture putting all their trust in Ezra, a trust the boy believed he had yet not earned. 

“Well, I say we try it,” Hera said and the rest nodded in agreement. Chopper let out a series of beeps but no one cared to acknowledge him and his obvious complaints died with that. 

“Grab what you need, I got a feeling this journey is going to be a long one.”

Ezra nodded in agreement, taking hesitant steps away from the stone before leaving for his chambers, gazing around the room he had barely made his own. His eyes skimmed over the few items he owned, many of which were simply borrowed from generous rebels and he stopped when his tired eyes landed on his lightsaber. It was still where he had placed it the previous evening, the metal gleaming in the low light. 

Ezra’s fists balled as his mind was filled with the blood curdling screams of the perpetually bleeding kyber crystals. His breathing became more difficult, shallow and painful as he failed to block out the sound only he could hear. Fearing he may collapse from the overwhelming concoction of emotion that filled his very being, he turned and fled the room. He ran, trying to escape the screams that echoed within his mind, that followed his every step only stopping when the cold air of the cliffside gently caressed his burning face, telling him he had gone far enough. 

Ezra looked at the wide open plains that created the world that had been his home but hadn’t been called so in a long time. The silence was welcome yet deafening, allowing him to think and make up his mind- he would not take the weapon he had defiled with him. He wasn’t even sure he could touch it without it burning himself again and he refused to become a liability in battle- to put his family at risk over a weapon he knew he could not wield. 

By the time Ezra had found the courage to return to camp, the others had stocked up on ammunition and a small amount of rations. The Spectres did not question at the fact that Ezra had prepared nothing to bring with him, and when all were accounted for, they left for the open plains, the greens and yellows of the grasses gently swaying in the winter’s breeze. Tentatively, Ezra stretched his only real hand out, closing his eyes in concentration.

_ Please...  _ He whispered to the Force, pleading to the entity he didn’t even know would or even could listen to him.

For a moment Ezra’s fears seemed to be realised, his outstretched hand attracting nothing but some irritating insects that chose that moment to perch on his fingers. Already anticipating and dreading informing the others of his failure, a warmth, like that of an embrace, surrounded him, welcoming Ezra and dispelling his doubt as it guided him through the far reaches of Lothal’s plains, caressing the surface with the tip of his mind’s fingers. It was, however, more difficult than anticipated. It had been so very long since he had used the Force like this, having grown too used to the coldness of the dark side. He could still feel it… like a whisper within his mind… of gentle promises of power… of paths far easier than the one he chose to tread on. However, he shook his head, dispelling the alluring caress from his mind, refusing to bow to it and instead, he focused even harder on the warmth of the light, of the presence of Hera and the others that surrounded him. And through its guidance, he had finally found it. 

An almost thread-like structure appeared before him, holding an air of familiarity and Ezra knew that this was it. He gently tugged on it and felt his mind connect with another’s, responding to him with a slight nudge of acknowledgement. 

With a shuddering sigh, Ezra let go of the connection as he withdrew from the Force, opening his eyes to be greeted by the Loth-wolves as they emerged gracefully from the grasses. The white wolf, who he assumed was the leader, came forth, staring at the young man with deep, gold eyes full of wisdom. It patiently waited to hear what Ezra wanted, although he was certain that the wolf already knew.

“We are ready,” Ezra stated with as much confidence as he could conjure and the Loth-wolf lowered his head slightly as if acknowledging his words. “The Jedi temple, can you take us there?”

There was a slow blink before the wolf lowered itself to the ground, watching the nervous teenager with a silent invitation. Biting the insides of his cheeks, the boy hesitated, remembering the last time he’d encountered the wolf and how it had bared its teeth at him. However, mustering the courage required, Ezra slowly climbed onto its back, amazed at the softness of the fur that flowed through his hands like silk as he grabbed hold. He gasped when the wolf stood up and it was only then that he realised how tall the animal really was, his nervousness growing tenfold. Never had he ridden a giant creature before, always having stuck to speederbikes. 

The black wolves followed suit, offering their backs for the rest of the Spectres to mount. Hera and Sabine readily climbed on, whereas Zeb was more skeptical, staring at the approaching wolf anxiously, murmuring words.

“Zeb, I don’t think those talk,” Ezra informed him, feeling almost amused at the sight if it weren’t for being constantly focused, constantly struggling on keeping himself afloat. The Lasat shot him a skeptical glare that held no malice.

“How do you know?” He countered before glancing at the wolf. “It, uh, talks with its eyes.”

“Whatever you want to tell yourself, Zeb,” Sabine threw in, winking at the flustered alien. Zeb grumbled under his breath but made no comment as he finally found the courage to mount the wolf, who then proceeded to grab Chopper by its jaws. 

Running his eyes over his family in assurance that everyone was ready to go, Ezra looked forward into the distant plains and tightened his grip on the wolf’s neck fur. 

“We’re ready to leave when you are,” he murmured lowly and the creature let out a gruff before bolting off into the grasses. 

Despite knowing what was going to happen, a gasp still escaped his lips at the sudden movement, instantly leaning forward in fear of falling off. Soon, however, his initial anxiety about riding the wolf faded away, giving in to the sudden rise of adrenaline. There was a sort of feeling of freedom in all of this. The way the wind slipped its fingers through his hair, caressing him with its crisp, winter’s breath, making Ezra forget, even if it was just for a moment, about his inner struggles. 

Something shifted in the Force and Ezra instinctively knew something was about to happen. 

“Hold on tight!” He called out over the winds, glancing back to see if they had heard him. Satisfied that they had, Ezra leaned forward again in anticipation.

The grass seemed to grow taller and it was only a moment later that Ezra realised that it was the wolves who were sinking. He could only watch in astonishment as they completely submerged below the flora before a white-blue light enveloped them, one that looked very similar to that of hyperspace. There was a pull on his consciousness, one that made his eyes droopy in drowsiness, struggling to remain awake. Soon enough, Ezra and the others slipped away into the world of dreams, distant voices of the past echoing in their minds, and among them was Kanan’s, causing his heart to ache painfully.

When he finally came to, Ezra found himself surrounded by soft, warm furs and grasped at them in confusion.

“Where am I?” He groaned as he groggily forced his eyes to open. 

His breath hitched when he came face to face with the view that expanded beyond the cliff he was on. The sun was set low over the cold plains, covering the grasslands with soft hues of serenity, graced in oranges and pinks. A sense of calmness washed over Ezra, one he had not felt in so many years and he had to blink away his tears before they could fall.

He slid off the wolf, glancing behind him to see that everyone was still asleep in the comfort of the wolves’ furs. They were okay, and with that in mind, he turned his attention to the white Loth-wolf. It stared at him with yellow eyes and there was a gentle tug in the back of his mind. Knowing that it was the wolf, Ezra allowed access to the creature before him and an odd, yet warm, sensation washed over him. 

It showed him where to find the Jedi temple from there.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he petted the white furs. It was odd at how at ease he felt in the presence of the wolves, considering how much he struggled being around others earlier that day. Perhaps it was because no words needed to be exchanged, feeling one another through the Force. Or perhaps it was something else. Ezra didn't take the time to dwell on it, preferring to take in the view instead.

There was a sound of rustling clothing and Ezra knew that the others had finally awoken, hearing their soft murmurs and groggy groans. Quiet footsteps approached him and he glanced sideways to see Hera standing next to him, admiring the view before looking at the young man. 

“The temple isn’t far from here,” he said in a gentle voice, feeling the most calm he had ever felt in the last two and a half years. There was something about connecting with the Loth-wolves and the serenity of the landscape that brought a sense of rest and security. And perhaps it was this mission that played a role in it all, too, though it was only just the beginning.

“How do you know?” The Twi’lek asked, her eyes shining with curiosity under the soft undertones of the setting sun.

“The wolves told me,” was all he said and she accepted the answer, perhaps used to the mysteries of the Force after having spent years living with Kanan. The thought of his former master made his heart quiver in a deep sadness, but he had to remain strong for this mission. For Kanan, for his family, and, dare he say it, for himself.

Twilight had already greeted them when they finally made it to their destination, blanketing them with its cool hues of deep blues and purples as the first stars appeared only to be outshined by the bright lights of at the work site. This only further proved that this was indeed the Jedi temple, with the Empire having their slimy fingers all over the place and all. They laid down against the rough ridge that surrounded the site, Hera taking out binoculars for closer inspection.

“This is no military operation,” Sabine observed through her macrobinocular viewplate that was attached to her helmet. The Empire had dug deep into the ground, carving away at a rock formation that Ezra assumed to be the Jedi temple - it certainly did have an air to it, feeling its pull in the Force. Scattered across the worksite were crates and large pieces of rock, although he could not see them in detail without the aid of the binoculars currently in Hera’s hands. “What are they searching for? Is this really the temple? It looks like a solid rock.”

“We’re in the right place. I can feel it,” he replied as he continued to scour the workers below as best as he could. 

“Any idea what the Empire wants?” She asked and he could feel their eyes on him expectantly. It made him feel put on the spot, nervous and small, and he felt guilty that he did not have the answers that they all desperately desired. 

“No,” Ezra answered eventually, his lips pressed into a thin line and continued to avoid eye contact. “But whatever it is, it’s dangerous and cannot fall into the Empire’s hands,” he quickly added when he felt the disappointment of not knowing coming off Sabine. That much was true. His insides turned at the warning that Dume had given him when he was appointed to this task, biting his lips as his mind continued to try and work out answers. 

“Well, they’ve uncovered a lot more artwork. Maybe I can figure it out if I get a closer look,” Sabine said when she turned her attention back to the site, gazing through her viewplate. 

“Agreed. You and Ezra go, we’ll keep watch from up here,” Twi’lek agreed, putting down the binoculars. 

Zeb grinned and pointed towards two patrol troopers on speeders. “Look! You’re gonna need a disguise.”

Obtaining the armor was relatively simple after Chopper played a recording of Thrawn, effectively confusing the scouts before Zeb put his strength to good use. After hastily putting on their disguises, Ezra and Sabine wasted no time in getting down back to the site to observe the artifacts at a closer distance. They bent down to have a better look, the Mandalorian brushing her slender, gloved hand against the stone, tracing the patterns as she attempted to make sense of the symbols. So captivated by its designs, none of them heard the approaching footsteps and flinched when a voice barked at them to get away from the artifacts. They did as they were ordered to do.

An old man draped in a black cloak marched towards them angrily trailed closely by two menacing deathroopers. He waved them apart as he placed himself protectively in front of the stones and glared at them with pale, cold eyes. 

“None of you are to touch the artifacts! The tiniest blemish could erase evidence which is critical to understanding the gateway!” He scolded them, wagging his finger as if he were talking to simpleminded toddlers. 

Ezra’s ears perked at a peculiar word that caught his attention. “Gateway?” He asked, forgetting who he was supposed to be and straightened his shoulders immediately when the man narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I mean, yes sir, sorry, sir.”

His heart pounded as he wondered if they had already been discovered. They were completely surrounded by Imperials and he had left his lightsaber back at their camp, unable to bring himself to touch the tormented, hate-filled weapon. However, the Force seemed to be on their side when one of the deathtroopers spoke up.

“Minister, Coruscant is contacting you.”

The elder glared at the man who interrupted him before giving one last glance at the disguised rebels in disdain before sharply turning around to leave, followed by only one of the troopers. The Imperial that had been left behind diverted his attention now to them and asked for their number and clearance codes.

“You do not need our numbers or clearance codes,” Ezra said unwaveringly just as he had seen Kanan done before. There was a slight dip in the man’s head and for a second, the teenager wondered if he had messed it up. Then, the trooper repeated his words in a dazed tone before walking off and Ezra sighed in relief. 

He could feel that Sabine was impressed but they had no time to chat as they made their way to the shadows of the bunker that the old man wandered into. 

“Chopper, I need you to reroute the incoming Imperial transmission,” Sabine radioed Chopper and they waited with bated breaths for the call to start playing in their earpieces. Then they heard the elderly man from before voice playing, talking about making a remarkable discovery. Cold dread gripped at their hearts when a raspy, sinister voice spoke up. The Emperor. 

The call ended with the mentions of the Mortis Gods and something about a conduit between the living and the dead, which did not sound good at all but Ezra could not figure out what it could possibly mean. The one good thing that he could gather was that no one had mentioned about the possibility of one of the inquisitors going rogue and joining the Rebellion, which would work well in their favour later on.

He bit his tongue as he listened to Sabine and Hera talk over the comms, the Twi’lek wanting to fall back now knowing that the Emperor was involved in this operation. 

“No,” Ezra spoke out in a soft voice. He couldn’t back down, this mission was much too important… it was given by kanan… it was his redemption. He  _ had _ to do it. “Because of the Emperor, we _have_ to get involved. We can’t let him enter the temple.”

“It’ll only be a matter of time before they cracked the code,” Sabine added, her eyes narrowing, “And by the sounds of it, they’re close to doing so.”

There was a pregnant pause, but he already knew that Hera would agree with them. At long last, she finally gently said, “Go. We’ll keep watch.”

Sabine and Ezra shared a look, nodding with determination. Before they could come up with a course of action, the man, who they now know to be named Hydan, called for everyone to gather around the edge of the temple’s wall.

“We are close to our goal. Move the drill into first position. Everyone double shifts, through the night. Mind your priority assignments and stay within your designated areas. Turn the floodlights on!”

The wall was illuminated to reveal one of the most stunning and elaborate murals Ezra had ever seen. A woman garbed in a white dress stood on the left with flowing green hair and a green convor placed upon her right shoulder. Next to her was a tall old man with a long, pointed beard, garbed in different shades of blue with a tall hat. The last figure was a man that eerily reminded Ezra of the Inquisitor, the pale face adorned with red tattoos and he wore black robes. It made his stomach turn in an uncomfortable manner when recalling his former ‘master’. 

In some twisted way, he the Pau’an's death had left a strange void, one that Ezra could not make much sense of. He had been put through so much pain for the past two and a half years because of that man, tortured and then put through rigorous training to become the perfect tool for the Empire, and yet, he still felt something akin to companionship - if that was even the right word. The Inquisitor and him had shared tender moments, too, sharing stories of the past and knowledge, and even tending some wounds. Shame pulled at his insides, causing his stomach to uncomfortably churn as he fought to keep his food down. He hated that he felt this way, this conflicted about a man who had taken everything from him, and he hoped that his family would never find out. He was certain that they would abandon him in disgust. 

His turmoil was cut short when a trooper marched over to Hydan, informing him about more symbols having been discovered and quickly led the old man away from the mural. Scanning their surroundings, Sabine and Ezra crept towards the wall, putting up their visor to get a better look.

“Can you make anything out of it?” Ezra asked after a few moments of attempting to decipher something but coming up blank. 

“Hmm, I think so.” Sabine moved closer, examining every detail and sighed. “Very old, very intricate. Have you seen something like this before when you were with the inquisitors?”

Ezra flinched at the question and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He felt ridiculous at reacting such a way to a simple question, but he couldn’t help but to be weighed down by the reminder of his betrayal and the terrible deeds he had done. Pushing those thoughts away, knowing they would serve no purpose here and Sabine was still patiently awaiting an answer, Ezra scanned the painting, searching for anything familiar.

“No,” he said finally, leaving out the fact that the man in the mural reminded him of someone he would rather forget. “But look, Loth-wolves.”

Sabine leaned in closer, tracing the picture with her eyes before jumping back with a gasp. She hastily took out a holoprojecter and it flickered on to reveal the stone that the wolves had given them, studying it for a quick moment.

“Look! The hands…” she breathed out excitedly, turning the device off before pointing towards the mural. “They’re the same on the figures as the ones here on the stone.”

Ezra looked dubiously at the figures on the wall before glancing back at Sabine with an eyebrow raised. “And that means something?” The boy asked rather dumbly, unable to put together what the image was telling him. Useless. That was how he felt when he couldn’t even analyse a simple picture, unable to make sense of the symbols and their connection. He gritted his teeth, hating himself for not being able to prove himself helpful to their mission. 

“Ezra, it’s art, everything has a meaning.” She chided him. “I think this is it.”

“What?” He had been so lost in his self-loathing that he hadn’t heard what the Mandalorian was saying. Sabine rolled her eyes, causing him to flinch. 

“The painting on the temple is like a star map, but none that I’m familiar with. Those lines are like paths and the rings are planets or… or doorways.”

“OK, but which one leads into the Temple?” He silently cringed at the question that he knew Sabine held no answers for, but could not help but to ask nonetheless. 

“We’re about to find out. Look here, the hands represent different configurations. Right now it looks like the painting is lined up with the central figure. I think we want this one, where the lines are together”

“Great, what happens then?” He asked rather impatiently, waving his hands as if beckoning for Sabine to answer.

“Well, I don’t know. It’s your turn, now do your thing,” she snapped back.

“I… I never opened a temple before,” Ezra admitted, his voice meek as he shrank to appear smaller as shame creeped up on him. “I don’t know how…”

He flinched, screwing his eyes shut, when Sabine reached out, anticipating for her to hit him for his incompetence. Instead, a warm and gentle hand rested on his shoulder and he cracked his eyes open, astonished to see her smiling softly at him.

“I know you can do this Ezra,” she assured him, warmth seeping through her words. “If anyone can open this temple, it would be you. Now go and do your Force magic stuff.”

Slowly, he allowed his lips to tug into a small smile, overcome by the amount of trust and love that radiated off the Mandalorian. She had meant every word. Swallowing thickly, Ezra turned his attention back to the wall and climbed onto a stone for a better reach, looking up at the tall figures. Tentatively, he placed his gloved hand over the woman’s more slender one and closed his eyes, attempting to concentrate, but the noise of his surroundings was too much, especially knowing that there were stormtroopers heading their way. 

“Get down!” Sabine hissed out and Ezra followed without a second thought, scrambling down the rock and lying low in its shadows. His heart pounded as he heard footsteps halt and the troopers began asking the Mandalorian questions, slowly growing more suspicious about what she was doing there. 

He inwardly cursed, feeling helpless when the Imperials took Sabine in for further questioning and there was nothing he could do about it. However, he also knew that Sabine had bought him time and he couldn’t waste any of it. Soon they would be discovered and he had to find the doorway before then.

Getting up when the coast was clear, he climbed up on the rock again and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. Ezra pushed away all his doubts and distractions as he recalled the instructions Kanan had once given him on how to meditate. The Force wrapped itself around him in a warm embrace as it guided his hand up to the mural and then there was a shift. Opening his blue eyes, he watched in astonishment as the ring around the female’s hand began to glow gold, causing him to withdraw his hand.

The star map began to move, aligning itself into a complete picture followed by a flash of gold. Then the most bewildering thing happened. The female began to move, turning her head to look at the old man beside her.

“We are the ones who guard the power,” her soft voice echoed in Ezra’s head and he gasped out of surprise, not having expecting the painting to talk. She then tilted her head slightly downwards as she closed her eyes in a solemn manner. “We are the middle, the beginning and the end.”

The old man then lowered his arm and pointed towards the right. Ezra followed the direction, looking around to see nothing and doubt began to trickle into his mind. Could he have done something wrong and that he hadn’t found the doorway? But then a movement in the corner of his eyes caught his attention and he turned to see golden Loth-wolves staring at him. They howled at the three figures before walking off into the very same direction that the man had been pointing to.  Hesitant, but determined, Ezra followed them into the shadows and around the bend of the cliff . The wolves stopped and began to walk in a circle, howling as they chased one another, and he could only watch with amazement. He took off his helmet, dropping it onto the floor to get a better look.

“This is it,” he breathed out as he began to smile. He had done it. He was now so close to completing the mission, to stop the Empire from defiling the Jedi temple and taking its secrets from within. 

Gingerly, Ezra stepped forward and with care, he placed his hand into the circle formed by the wolves. He gasped when his hand didn’t meet solid rock and instead went through, causing him to recoil in shock.  _ This confirms it _ , he thought as determination took its roots, overshadowing the doubt that had once been there. 

Just as he was about to enter the gateway, floodlights flashed on in his direction and a voice alerted all troopers. “Intruder in sector three grid two.”

“This can’t be good,” Ezra mumbled to himself as he watched troopers surround him, blasters ready. He crouched to not agitate the troopers any further and have them shoot him, and he took tentative steps backwards towards the portal. The old man, Hydan, rushed forward through the crowd of Imperials and marveled at the sight. 

“The gateway!” Hydan exclaimed in excitement. Behind him was Sabine being held by the two deathtrooopers from earlier and she gave Ezra a knowing look, her eyes shined with assurance that she would be okay.

“Go!” She yelled and so he did, jumping into the portal before anyone could stop him and everything turned black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be a while before I update again as I want to at least get a few chapters done. However, I do want to say that I am not going to give up on this story and it will be finished :)  
> Thank you for reading


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